


Pieces Form a Whole

by simplesetgo



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 71,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplesetgo/pseuds/simplesetgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which things go horribly wrong  during the last few minutes of the last episode of Season 2. Such events result in a journey of vengeance and justice, brokenness and healing, and no small amount of self-discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am mixing show and book mechanics here, but I would like to make clear that I am not so much incorporating book elements as they are so much as using them for inspiration. Book people may recognize a couple things, but they will likely be far removed!
> 
> For reasons that will become immediately obvious, I am retconning certain key events in S2E7, "Resurrection", out of existence. I didn't want this to be a we-have-to-defeat-the-Keeper story. While on the subject of things this fic isn't, if you will please notice that this fic is NOT titled "Angsting Over The Death Of Richard Cypher: The Series." I have every intention of allowing characters to move forward, but I wanted to lay proper groundwork first.

The dark red haze of Con Dar rolled back, and Kahlan woke from it into her worst nightmare.

“Richard!”

Her cry was lost in the ocean wind and the dull roar of the flaming rift beside them, but all she could do was call out in the hope that he could somehow still hear her. “Richard!”

His body remained still at her feet, her dagger’s hilt deep in his chest, one arm thrown loosely onto the sand. His lips didn’t part with answer, and his chest didn’t rise or fall.

Kahlan found herself at his side, knees in the sand and hands on his face. “What’ve I done,” she whispered. She cradled his head, pulled the dagger free, and repeated her pointless and pertinent question. “What have I done?”

Pressure built behind her eyes and tears soon followed, falling hot and wet down her skin. She wanted to scream but couldn’t; loud sobs wracked her body instead as she lowered her head to his chest and felt the warmth leaving his skin. She almost didn’t hear her name on the wind, called out by a voice that seemed very far away.

“Kahlan!”

She raised her head to see Cara and Zedd on horseback, galloping toward her across the beach, and the sight of the Mord-Sith filled Kahlan with such a sense of finality that it was all she could do not to collapse on the sand at Richard’s side.

If it was anyone else but Richard, Cara could revive him. Anyone else but the last carrier of the Rahl bloodline. But Mord-Sith magic, be it Breath of Life or Agiel, derived from their bond with Lord Rahl, and there was no other Rahl for the bond to pass to. Even Darken Rahl’s new body was coursing with very plain and unmagical blood.

Richard was dead, and Cara’s ability to give the Breath of Life was gone. She was just a woman in red leather.

Kahlan was almost too terrified to say the words when they reached her. “Cara,” she called, futilely attempting to blink back the stream of tears. “Zedd! I killed him…”

They dismounted paces away and rushed to Richard’s side, both kneeling wide eyed and panicked. “What did you do?” Cara demanded.

Zedd laid one hand on Kahlan’s shoulder and the other to his grandson’s neck, and his own eyes grew wet as he shook his head. “He’s gone.”

“The Con Dar,” Kahlan said weakly, letting her head fall back over Richard’s chest. “I killed him.” She closed her eyes, letting heavy tears fall onto his skin. She felt Zedd’s hand on her back, and she soon lost the ability to speak as she cried out her remorse, her grief, and her sorrow. Kahlan didn’t care that the world was ended, that the Keeper had won, that it was only a matter of time before every living soul belonged to him. All that mattered was that the heart of the man who taught her, a Confessor, what love truly was would never beat again.

When Zedd’s voice broke into her sobs, it was almost in awe. “Kahlan. Look.”

She opened her eyes to see something impossible, right in front of her. The Stone of Tears, resting at the base of Richard’s throat where her own tears had welled.

“He gave the Stone to the Keeper,” Kahlan whispered in disbelief, voice still broken. Her eyes found Cara, who was staring at Richard, brow deeply furrowed, as if she could bring him back to life by force of will alone.

“It seems we have another,” Zedd replied, his voice strangely hushed.

Kahlan turned her head at a sudden whistle in the air. It was followed by a wet sound and Zedd’s strangled breath beside her, and she watched in horror as the Wizard sank slowly to the ground with a Dacra buried in his throat, blood falling freely to darken the sand below.

Such was her shock that she barely heard Cara call her name. There was a second whistle and she felt a Dacra bury itself in the middle of her own back. Her body threw itself forward, over Richard’s, in some twisted reactionary protective measure, and deep and sharp pain took hold. Kahlan’s head landed on his chest, and she felt his blood on her cheek even as she saw Cara rise with silent Agiels beside her.

Two Sisters of the Dark were charging them from across the beach, red robes whipping in the wind. Kahlan swallowed, clenching fistfuls of sand and cloth in whatever semblance of anger she could manage in the face of such overwhelming grief. Only two. They had taken on dozens and won; now they would be done in by two with a better sense of timing.

She raised herself to her feet, daggers in hand, wincing at the pain in her back the movement brought with it. Cara gave her a pointed glance, and Kahlan was glad to see fury in her eyes. Any emotion was better than none.

The Sisters were on them. Cara took running steps forward and charged one of them, and Kahlan raised her daggers to the other. But the Sister stopped mere paces away and extended her hand, and Kahlan was thrown to her knees as pain exploded in her back.

Her daggers fell to the sand, her face turned skyward, and the scream that left her throat could not do justice to the agony that was rending her body and soul. Kahlan was being torn, part of her ripped forcefully away, and she could only watch through a haze of pain as her own magic left her in a glowing stream and flowed into the red-robed Sister.

It was done, and Kahlan knew she had taken all of it. This nameless woman, face veiled by sheer red fabric, had taken all of Kahlan’s power and left her with nothing. The crushing sense of loss filled her chest with an almost physical coldness and emptiness. She fell into the sand, onto her back; the Dacra gutted deeper into her flesh, but Kahlan hardly felt it. She was suddenly exhausted, completely and utterly spent.

The sky was growing darker overhead, the clouds swirling in impossibly fast patterns of blackness and turmoil. Kahlan was mesmerized by the churning motion; her breathing calmed even as the wind picked up to a loud and steady roar all around them.

The man she loved was dead. Zedd was dead. She and Cara were powerless, and her own existence was dependent upon the will of her enemy before her. She was just beginning to accept her fate when Cara called out, her voice sudden and strong.

“Kahlan!”

She raised her head to see the Mord-Sith, not ten paces away, with her palms on either side of the head of a dazed Sister of the Dark. Cara twisted and snapped her neck with a grimace of exertion and the Sister slid silently to the ground. But Cara didn’t have time to recover before Kahlan’s own foe shoved her hand at Cara’s throat. Cara clutched at her arm, trying to tear herself away and driving a dead Agiel fruitlessly into the red fabric over and over. Kahlan’s hand found a dagger, and she made her choice.

If she could somehow subdue the Sister, there was a chance Kahlan could use a Dacra to take her power back. If Cara was no longer truly Mord-Sith, there was a chance that confession wouldn’t kill her; she would be released when Kahlan pulled her magic from the Sister. But the dagger that left her hand to sink hilt deep in the Sister’s throat was a testament to how little Kahlan was willing to take those chances.

The Sister stayed standing, stricken, with her neck spurting blood, but then the flash of light that signaled the death of Confessor magic—Kahlan’s magic—burst from her chest and she collapsed to the sand in a red and lifeless heap. Kahlan stayed on her knees, Cara stood still, chest heaving, and all they could do was look at each other across the sand.

Rain began to fall, soft and light, peppering the beach, and Cara turned her face to the sky. “The Stone needs daylight,” she shouted. “There won’t be any left soon.”

Kahlan nodded numbly; she’d almost forgotten. She stood slowly and turned to head back to the bodies of Richard and Zedd.

“Kahlan, your back. Hold still,” Cara said, quickly approaching her from behind.

She felt Cara pull on the Dacra, allowing herself only a slight grimace at the pain. It came free with a sickening wet sound, and Cara tossed it to the sand in front of them as they started walking. It was half red.

They stopped beside the Seeker’s body, and Kahlan knelt to lift the Stone of Tears from its place on Richard’s skin. Cara tried to give her a supporting hand, but she batted it away. “I’m fine,” she muttered.

They walked alongside the rift toward the Pillars, and Kahlan couldn’t help but realize that Richard was down there, in the flames. She could only hope that the priests were right; that everyone wrongfully sent to the Underworld would be brought into the Creator’s light if the veil was repaired.

Not halfway to the narrow and winding steps, a deceptively shallow dune tripped Kahlan’s dragging feet. Cara caught her with a strong hand, and this time Kahlan wordlessly accepted an arm across her shoulders. They had barely begun working their way up the stairs when the storm turned violent. Thick wet drops slickened the stone under their feet and soon they were fighting their way through rainwater streaming down the steps. Wind tore at their clothes and skin; lightning began arcing across the sky to be followed by thunderous cracks and deep rumbles. Kahlan held the Stone clenched tightly in her fist.

By the time they reached the top, the unnatural darkness made it hard to see in front of them. The Pillars looked unworldly and alien, stretching out to the blackened and roiling sky above them, and only flashes of lightning revealed the path ahead. Thunder seemed to shake the ground beneath their feet as they stumbled forward together, heading for the center where a raised pedestal stood alone.

“We’re too late,” Kahlan shouted. “The darkness…”

But Cara stopped her, hands on her shoulders, and yelled back above the roar of wind and rain. “Not! For nothing!”

She kept her hold on Kahlan’s body, only letting go when Kahlan reached for Cara’s own shoulder. “Not for nothing,” she repeated.

Cara stayed at her side as they reached the center, and Kahlan placed the Stone of Tears inside the web of metal atop the pedestal without pause or fanfare. They stepped back, waiting, and after one too many moments, just as Kahlan was bowing her head in defeat, the Stone unmistakably began to glow. It was faint at first, but a narrow line of light reached straight up, skyward, and quickly gathered strength and brightness.

Kahlan raised her face to the clouds and saw them part. The golden pillar of light was soon blinding and wide; it split the sky above and sent the darkness rolling back. The rain ceased and sunlight shone sudden and bright over the Pillars. Tendrils of light and magic burst from the flaming Stone and shot through them and into the air around them. It should have been beautiful. It should have been everything they’d been hoping for.

But as Kahlan stepped away and watched the rift on the beach below seal up and disappear, she felt absolutely nothing. Their victory had cost too much; it wasn’t worth it. All she could see were the two still forms lying beside each other on the sand.

She noticed Cara standing beside her, absently wiping rainwater from her leather, and a glance confirmed she was equally unimpressed.

“We need to bury them,” Kahlan said, her voice almost cracking. “Up here. They deserve as much.”

The Mord-Sith held her gaze, and Kahlan knew that if she so much as sighed her disapproval or displeasure, she wouldn’t stop herself from lashing out.

But Cara simply said, “Alright.”

****

After the slow and laborious process of carrying the bodies of the Wizard and Seeker up the steep stairs, they spent the rest of the day digging with their hands and Kahlan’s daggers in the hard-packed earth under the Pillars of Creation. Kahlan had chosen a spot near the edge of the cliffs, overlooking the ocean beyond, and they laid the grandfather and grandson to rest side by side just before the sun set.

She could only kneel before Richard’s grave for so long before she felt familiar pressure behind her eyes and quickly stood. While she’d managed to lose herself in the task of burial—half the reason she wanted such a process—now that it was over, Kahlan knew it wouldn’t be long before dark thoughts took hold in her mind. She needed another task.

“We need to leave and make camp,” Kahlan said. “Somewhere else. It’s unlikely, but there might be more Sisters of the Dark who decide to avenge their wretched Keeper.”

Cara wordlessly grabbed their packs, shouldering one and tossing the other to Kahlan. She caught it, strapped the Sword of Truth across her back, and threw the pack over her shoulders. She ignored the pain from the gash the Dacra had left, but not without effort.

The Mord-Sith hadn’t said a word since agreeing to bury Richard and Zedd, and Kahlan spent the last remnants of daylight walking and wondering what the blonde beside her was thinking.

****

“I need to dress your wound,” Cara stated. “We don’t have a Wizard to heal you.”

“I’m fine,” Kahlan sighed. It was dark and she wanted to rest; they’d come inland a ways and found a small secluded spot in the forest between two massive fallen logs. It was just big enough for two people to sleep comfortably, and there was no way anyone could see them without looking for them.

Her argument was futile, of course. She wasn’t fine; the wound had continued to burn and ache, and she soon gave in to Cara’s insistence. The Mord-Sith drove their lit torch into the ground behind them before rummaging in her pack to produce the needle and thread normally used to stitch torn clothing.

“Thank you,” Kahlan ventured, turning away and pushing her traveling dress down from her shoulders to her waist.

Cara’s fingers started working on her corset, and the words sounded strange from her mouth. “You’re welcome.”

Very, very strange. She turned her head to see the blonde holding a needle between her lips. Cara merely raised her brow, and Kahlan returned to watching torchlight dance their shadows over the leaves.

Cara finished unlacing the corset to expose her back, and Kahlan heard a waterskin pop open. Moments later she felt a cool wet cloth on the wound. She allowed herself to close her eyes even as she winced.

“It’s not infected yet,” Cara observed. “You’re lucky.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Kahlan retorted.

Cara ignored her ill-mannered reply. “Turn around for a moment.”

Kahlan sighed and turned to her side. She hardly expected Cara to swipe at her cheek with the cloth, and almost jumped back.

“You still have his blood on you,” Cara explained. “Let me…”

The words left Kahlan without thought. “It should stay. I killed him.”

Now it was Cara that sighed, and she pointedly wiped at Kahlan’s cheek to punctuate each word. “Don’t…be…ridiculous. You were in Con Dar.”

Kahlan just clenched her jaw.

Satisfied, Cara sat back and motioned at Kahlan to turn back around. “The needle is hot and I’ll be quick, but this is going to hurt.”

Kahlan nodded, raising a leather strap of her corset to hold it between her teeth.

“I felt it happen,” Cara began, disregarding Kahlan’s hiss as the needle pierced her skin. “Before I saw you. A Mord-Sith’s bond with Lord Rahl is always present. We can always feel it, no matter where he is, or who the bond belongs to. When Richard died, it was the first time I hadn’t felt the bond since Darken Rahl granted me the Magic against the Magic after my breaking.”

Kahlan wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this. She wasn’t sure she could handle actually talking about this so soon. But it occurred to her that Cara might need to, and that maybe all she had to do was listen.

It didn’t matter; Cara stopped talking and worked in silence, and Kahlan didn’t ask her to continue. She just bit down on hard leather when she needed to, and soon Cara was done.

The distinctive sound of cloth ripping reached her ears, and Kahlan turned wide-eyed to see Cara tearing a long strip from one of their blankets. “Cara, what are you—”

“You started bleeding again. Hold still, and don’t twist like that. You’ll break the stitches.”

She turned back away and felt Cara pass the strip of cloth around her middle, under her corset, and tie it over the cloth behind her. “Nights are getting colder,” Kahlan admonished. “We’ll need these blankets.”

Cara ignored her. “Much better,” she sniffed, clearly satisfied with her handiwork. “Shouldn’t be much more than an ache in the morning.”

Morning. Kahlan was hard pressed to imagine the world would have a morning tomorrow. The sun would rise, birds would sing, and the world would go on without even knowing Richard and Zedd had died trying to save them all.

The thought collapsed her onto her bedroll, and she heard the angry sputter of the torch as Cara doused it with water. Silence took over soon after Cara settled beside her.

It didn’t take long for dark thoughts to surface. She squeezed her eyes shut in preparation and let them come.

****

Kahlan woke slowly the next morning. Something told her she wouldn’t want to actually leave the haze of sleep, so she drifted off and back again, finding imaginary and intricate patterns in the bark of the fallen tree trunk beside her. But after realizing the sun was strangely high and the air was no longer cold, she sat up suddenly, squinting as she turned and caught Cara’s eye.

The blonde was sitting up, reclined against the opposite tree. “You’re awake,” Cara observed.

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” Kahlan asked, voice gravelly.

“Because you were finally asleep.”

“What does that…” Kahlan stopped herself when she remembered, reaching absently to her cheek as if to wipe away all the tears she’d wept over the night. She had tried to keep her sobs silent for Cara’s sake, but she couldn’t help her sharp and labored breathing at times. “I’m…sorry. I just.”

“Don’t,” Cara sighed. “Your back?”

Kahlan rolled her shoulders experimentally and cleared her throat. “Better.”

“Good.” Cara tossed her a small bag of nuts and dried fruit, and Kahlan took one look at it and placed it beside her.

“I’m not hungry.”

That coaxed another sigh from Cara, followed by a look that said she was trying to figure out whether to argue. “You probably haven’t eaten anything in two days,” she said at length. “Eat some of that on the road.”

“The road to where, exactly?”

“I don’t know. Are you suggesting we stay here?” the blonde retorted.

Kahlan shifted to a sitting position against the tree and pulled her knees to her chest. The questions had been asked, and they really did need answers. “We were supposed to go to Aydindril,” she said, “but I can’t. I am…no longer the Mother Confessor, or even a Confessor at all.”

It wasn’t completely true, of course. Her sister, Dennee, would welcome her with open arms and she would have a place of honor in the Confessor’s Palace. Somehow, Kahlan didn’t want that.

Cara just nodded and relaxed back somewhat, apparently relieved that Kahlan hadn’t yet burst into tears. “Well, I have nowhere to go,” she said. “Without Richard I—”

She stopped suddenly, staring straight ahead. Kahlan realized that, while she had lost the man she loved, Cara had lost something possibly more dangerous—her purpose in life. The House of Rahl was ended.

“Wherever we’re headed, it’s going to be further inland,” Kahlan ventured. “We could just start walking north and figure it out on the way.”

Cara’s jaw worked for a moment, then she nodded curtly and stood.

Kahlan quickly packed her things. Cara handed her the Sword and the pouch of nuts and fruit with a raised brow, and she accepted them both. They stepped out of their shelter and started walking silently, together, on their road to nowhere in particular.

****

It was a mockery, Kahlan decided. They had trekked through thick and green forest all day under beautiful weather, and it only made her angrier at the world for providing it. Shortly after picking up a narrow forest path, they’d come across a lone hunter, bow across his back, who greeted them with a word and a smile as he passed. Kahlan could only nod in return, barely able to bite back harsh admonishment for his ignorant and light-hearted behavior.

Her conversation with Cara was sparing, pointedly avoiding anything to do with Richard or Zedd. Cara might mention how unlikely it was that they come across a village or roadside tavern before night fell, Kahlan would agree in fewer words, and silence would retake them.

When their shadows turned long and the evening sunlight turned the forest golden, they chose a spot well off the path to make camp, and Kahlan had a small fire going soon after. She fed twigs and branches to the flames as Cara took a seat next to her, unpacking utensils and pouring water into a pot for stew.

“We failed,” Kahlan said suddenly, as if to no one in particular. “Our job was to keep Richard safe. We failed.” When Cara didn’t answer and wouldn’t meet her gaze, Kahlan’s voice turned harsher with pent-up ire. “I killed him and you weren’t there to stop me. The one man you can’t bring back, the man I love, dead by my own hand. How am I supposed to live with that?”

Cara still hadn’t looked at her. “It wasn’t—”

“It wasn’t me, wasn’t my fault,” Kahlan finished bitterly. “Then why do I remember doing it? Why do I see him falling backwards, telling me that he loves me with my dagger in his chest, every time I close my eyes? Con Dar or not, it was my hand, Cara. It _was_ me.”

Cara added a pinch of spice to the stew and silently placed the pot over the flames.

“Spirits, what is wrong with you?” Kahlan hissed, suddenly furious. “It’s like you don’t even care. Did you ever care? Was Richard just a…thing to you? Your Lord Rahl was—”

The harsh slap was swallowed by the forest around them, but the fierce sting on Kahlan’s cheek was lasting evidence of Cara’s response. Kahlan looked away, locking her gaze on the small yellow flames and bringing a hand to her cheek as she flexed her jaw. She tasted blood.

“Is that what you want?” All calmness and neutrality was gone from Cara’s voice, replaced with sudden anger. “Do you want me to show you what I feel? That would require the back of my hand, my fist, a dagger from your boot. Trust me, Kahlan, you do not want to see the ugliness of what I _feel_.” She paused and huffed as if a thought just occurred to her. “Do you want punishment for your crime of murdering ‘my Lord Rahl’? Is that it?”

Kahlan met the blonde’s cold gaze with her own. “Yes.”

She watched as Cara’s jaw clenched tight, as she took shallow breaths. “You’ll punish yourself enough,” Cara muttered. “I’m sure of it.”

Kahlan worked her jaw but couldn’t find a response, so she took a deep breath and let the air clear between them. Cara busied herself with the stew, stirring absently with a white-knuckled grip on the large wooden spoon.

“Is that all?” Kahlan asked at length. She managed to control her voice to sound detached, almost as if her interest was academic curiosity. “Anger is all you feel?”

“No,” Cara sighed. “It’s like there’s…a giant hole in my chest, and I don’t know if it’s because Richard is gone or the bond is gone. But I do know,” she added brusquely, clearing her throat, “that talking about it and crying over it won’t make it go away.”

Kahlan was quiet for a moment, thinking about the first of Cara’s words. “I don’t know either,” she said at length. “What hurts worse. I’ve been holding my Confessor power at bay every waking moment since I first felt it in me, when I was two summers old. Now that I don’t have to hold it back, it feels strange. Empty. And I don’t know how much of that emptiness is Richard, or how much _should_ be Richard.”

Cara nodded as if she understood, and Kahlan realized she actually did. Far more than she’d initially thought. She was lucky to have Cara; someone who understood, someone she was close enough to that she didn’t have to apologize for every snap or glare. Her cheek still stung a little, and she was glad Cara hadn’t tried to ask forgiveness.

“I miss the Wizard,” Cara sighed after tasting a sip of her stew. “The man could cook.”

Kahlan waited for anger to surface, for a scathing rebuke to leave her lips at the blonde’s lack of respect, but neither came. “Yes,” she said. “He could.” She took the pro-offered spoon and delicately tasted the concoction. “I think…more of that,” Kahlan ventured, indicating the pouch of spices at Cara’s feet.

Cara nodded and added another pinch. “He deserved a better death,” she muttered, “than being caught unawares by a Dacra.”

“Yes. He did.”

****

The next day she woke earlier, while Cara was still asleep and the air still carried the morning chill. They’d put the fire out early and decided against attempting to keep a watch with only two of them; they would have to stop far earlier in the evening and leave far later in the morning if they were to try and sleep without overlap. Neither of them mentioned that they simply might not care enough about their own well-being to bother.

She raised herself up, wincing as the persistent ache of her back wound flared up once more. A reach and a nudge to Cara’s shoulder had the blonde’s eyes fluttering open to take in the bluish morning light reaching through the mists.

Cara’s gaze turned to her, and just as Kahlan was about to turn away and begin packing their camp, Cara surprised her by reaching into her own pack. She produced Kahlan’s hairbrush and tossed it to her. Kahlan caught it and stared at her dumbly.

Cara cleared her throat, but her voice still carried the heaviness of sleep. “You look terrible. Worse than you did when you escaped the Margrave’s dungeon.”

“Oh.” Kahlan gave the brush an experimental tug through her hair and grimaced. Cara was probably right; the ocean breeze was salty and had not been kind to it. “We might be here all morning if I’m to fix that,” she said.

“Alright,” Cara shrugged. “You slept better?”

“Yes,” Kahlan lied. She was still haunted by the same dreams, the same crystal clear memory, but she’d managed to keep her torture quieter.

“Good.”

Cara moved to pack the camp while Kahlan gathered her hair over her shoulder and began her work. “I never really understood what it was like,” she said hesitantly. “Being under confession.”

Cara grunted and Kahlan took it as license to continue. “I loved her,” she said, swallowing back sudden disgust at the truth of the words. She locked her stare on the ground in front of her. “I remember it. I loved Nicci every bit as much as I ever loved Richard. No magic should be strong enough to do that.”

She raised her head and caught Cara’s gaze. “She was insane, Cara. Nicci’s power had driven her mad. She wanted to let the world die around her, then repopulate and rule over it as she saw fit.” Kahlan sighed. “It’s a good thing you killed her, because there’s no telling what she might have done with the Confessor power she took from me. Added to the power she already had…”

She let the words hang in the air, but Cara didn’t seem impressed. “She’s dead. I shot her in the neck,” she reminded Kahlan.

“I almost would’ve liked to kill her myself,” Kahlan mused.

Cara raised her brow. “Vengeance?”

“Justice,” she shot back.

“Would there really have been a difference? If they both end with Nicci dead at your feet.”

Kahlan’s hands paused their work. “I suppose not.”


	2. Chapter 2

Almost a week passed before they found a city or village not emptied and ransacked by banelings. Such was the legacy of the Keeper’s minions; they had managed to wreak considerable havoc on the Midlands before the repair of the Veil robbed them of their twisted second life. Cara and Kahlan had passed through two such ruined settlements, but the overwhelming stench of death kept their visits just long enough to appropriate food and supplies from the shops.

They came upon the town of Isrith as the day drew to a close, and it quickly became apparent how the inhabitants had bypassed the wreckage of the world around them. High and strong walls stretched all the way around, mostly thick wooden palisades but with makeshift reinforcements of stone and metal.

Kahlan heard the low hum of a busy village behind the closed gates but received no answer to their calls for a porter or gatekeeper. She turned her head at Cara’s low-voiced call of her name and followed the blonde’s gaze to the ground before the gates. Various pieces of loose clothing were tracked into the mud and grass—remnants of banelings who were denied entrance and died for their attempts.

Kahlan secured her dark hood over her head to shut out the cold evening wind. “If we’re mistaken for…”

Cara’s brow raised and a hand went absently to her dead Agiels.

Kahlan frowned. “Take these,” she said, drawing her daggers. “I’m better with a sword than you are.”

Cara stared at her as if Kahlan had just requested she sing her a song, but her eyes flew to the gates and back and she made her choice. Her Agiels left her hands to fall in the grass and she took the offered hilts of Kahlan’s blades.

“You’re just going to leave them here?” Kahlan asked in disbelief, staring at the red leather rods on the ground.

“They don’t have much of a use, do they?” Cara retorted. When Kahlan didn’t have an answer, she stepped forward and called out at the top of her lungs. “Gatekeeper!”

This time, a head popped up over the wall. It belonged to a red-faced gentlemen with a shock of equally red hair being tossed about by the wind. He was of considerable girth, and Kahlan found herself wondering if he had been attempting to climb the stairs to the top of the wall since their first call-out.

“Who are you?” he shouted suspiciously. “We don’t shelter banelings.”

“We’re peaceful travelers,” Kahlan yelled back. “We’re not banelings!”

“How can I be sure?” the man replied. He gestured furiously at someone—or maybe many someones—below him, and Kahlan’s fingernails dug into her palm as she resisted drawing the Sword of Truth from across her back.

“Have you seen any banelings in the past several days?” Kahlan challenged, securing her hood and stepping closer. “They were all called back to the Underworld when the Seeker defeated the Keeper nearly a week ago.”

The porter’s eyes narrowed at that, and his head cocked as he gave the matter serious thought. “The Keeper is truly defeated?”

“Yes,” Cara shouted. “Now let us in!”

Kahlan frowned at her for jeopardizing their progress, but the blonde rolled her eyes. “We’re not banelings, I swear it,” she added. A raise of her eyebrows followed as she returned Kahlan’s glance.

The porter’s head disappeared, and after an equally long pause confirmed Kahlan’s initial suspicions, the gates began to creak open. The red-faced man emerged, followed by four ragtag soldiers with dirty chainmail, dented helmets, and rusted swords.

“I am Eldridge,” he announced, visibly swelling his chest as he stopped two paces from them. “Chief of Defense of the town of Isrith, and these are my officers.”

Kahlan was too tired for pleasantries. “I assume your town has an inn?”

“Two. But if you don’t mind terribly, we’ll have a look at you to ensure your words are true. Show a little skin, and if you be free of the lesions and marks of the dead, we’ll allow you entrance.”

Whether his intentions were innocent or not, she was _far_ too tired for this. Yet her hand was quick; the Sword of Truth left its sheath with a distinctive ring, and Kahlan extended the tip to Eldridge’s soft throat before he or his so-called officers could move a muscle.

“We are peaceful travelers,” she repeated firmly. “Most of the time. We are not banelings. If we were, you and your men would already be bleeding on the ground. I recommend you not give us reason to make it so regardless.”

His men all stepped back another pace before raising their weapons, eyeing the women warily. Eldridge’s eyes went impossibly wide and his hands shot forward in supplication. “Very well,” he croaked. “Men, you will allow them—” He cut his own blustering short as his eyes lit on the hilt of the sword at his throat. “The Sword of Truth,” he gasped. “What of the Seeker? You said he defeated the Keeper!”

Kahlan cursed her own short-sightedness at forgetting how recognizable the weapon was. She returned it to its sheath across her back and sighed. “He gave his life doing so, and he entrusted the weapon to me with his last breath.”

Cara cleared her throat beside her and stepped forward, but Eldridge moved to block their path. “The Seeker is dead then? What of the Mother Confessor?” he asked worriedly.

Kahlan moved to step around him, pulling the hood tighter around her head. “She died as well.”

****

She leaned her shoulder on the window frame of their room at the inn, watching as people milled about the torch-lit streets below. It seemed Isrith was the only populated city within several leagues in any direction, and as such was overcrowded and never quiet, even after night fell.

The door burst open behind her and Kahlan turned to see Cara backing carefully into the room, arms full with two plates and a pitcher of wine. “I don’t see why we couldn’t eat downstairs,” the blonde complained after pushing the door closed with her foot. “Why do you insist on telling people you’re dead and then hiding away?”

“Because Kahlan Amnell is no longer of any consequence,” she retorted. “I’m no longer who, or what, people think I am. I may as well be dead to them. If the city were to find out the Mother Confessor was in their midst, they wouldn’t understand when I tried to explain that I couldn’t…be that for them.”

“Just because you lost your confessor magic doesn’t mean you—”

“Yes, Cara, it does,” Kahlan interrupted.

Cara just pursed her lips before setting their meal on a small table and dragging it into the middle of room to the foot of the single bed. Kahlan took a chair from the corner of the room and joined her, and they began their meal of roasted meat and fresh vegetables in silence. It seemed like forever since they’d had a good meal.

“Eldridge likes you,” Cara mentioned casually. “I talked to him—well, he talked to me downstairs. He offered us work as officers in his little army of defenders of Isrith. I couldn’t tell if he was serious; he reeked of ale. I told him we would think about it.”

Kahlan snorted in derision, then froze. “Wait—are you? Thinking about it?”

Cara stared at her meal for a moment. “No. Well not exactly that, but…we still don’t know what we’re doing, Kahlan. We can’t keep wandering aimlessly around the Midlands forever.”

“I think I prefer exactly that to staying here,” Kahlan muttered. “Especially in the employ of that miserable man.” The thought of settling down somewhere, anywhere, and trying to live a normal life was disturbing to her. She couldn’t do it, and the extent to which the idea repulsed her wasn’t clear until the moment of the blonde’s offer.

Cara looked relieved. “Good. Though…it’s a shame you can’t confess one of the cooks. You could order them to come with us when we leave.”

“A shame,” Kahlan agreed. She almost smiled.

****

“Hold still,” Cara admonished exasperatedly. “Are you a grown woman or a child? Stop squirming.”

“It itches, and you’re not helping,” Kahlan shot over her bare shoulder.

Their nightly ritual of cleaning Kahlan’s Dacra wound was almost at an end. Cara told her it was healing beautifully and that she’d have a nice pink battle scar soon. She almost sounded proud of her.

“Done,” Cara pronounced. Kahlan raised herself off the bed, demurely covering her breasts with an arm as she reached for her nightshift. “I’m curious,” Cara mused. “When will you let me knock you over the head so you can actually sleep?”

Kahlan froze for a moment, but quickly realized that it wouldn’t have been hard for Cara to figure out the source of her constant exhaustion. She couldn’t sleep for more than a couple hours at a time before she woke sweating from her dreams. “I’m not quite that desperate yet,” she answered evenly, pulling the shift over her body.

She moved to extinguish the single lamp in the corner, surrendering their room to the shaft of moonlight coming in the window. As she slipped under the sheets beside Cara, she tried to decide whether she dared mention it.

“I did sleep better once,” she said quickly. “That one night. But you looked so uncomfortable in the morning I didn’t want…”

It seemed to take Cara a moment to realize what she was referring to. “Oh,” she said. “I’m…not used to sleeping that close to someone.”

They had joined their bedrolls and slept under stacked blankets for the purpose of sharing heat during an especially cold night, and somehow Cara’s closeness had seemed to fend off the worst of Kahlan’s nightmares. It wasn’t the close and fitted embrace of lovers, it was the almost unintentional giving and acceptance of much-needed comfort. It was also exactly what she needed.

“I’m not either,” Kahlan admitted. “But you’re not?”

Cara was clearly aware of her implication. “Kahlan, Mord-Sith do not fall asleep holding bedmates closely after taking our pleasure,” she said drily.

Kahlan hoped the darkness hid the sudden warmth in her cheeks. Cara gave no indication of noticing; instead she pushed down the sheets, turned on her side to face Kahlan, and raised an arm in silent invitation.

Kahlan bit down on her lip before curling up with her back to Cara. She squeezed her eyes shut as she pulled her knees to her chest; the shame that someone should see her so vulnerable was almost enough to bring tears to her eyes on its own. But Cara just pulled the sheets back up to cover them both and shifted to rest an arm on her side, and she was glad it was Cara that saw her like this and no one else.

“Do you have dreams?” Kahlan asked softly. “About what happened.”

“Mord-Sith don’t dream,” Cara assured her. “Go to sleep.”

“Cara…are you still Mord-Sith?”

She paused before answering in a whisper. “I don’t know. Go to sleep.”

****

Kahlan never expected to have to use her considerable diplomatic abilities for haggling, but she quickly discovered she was doing quite well. While no longer possessing the ability to see into the depths of people’s souls to gauge the truth of their words, she still managed to talk down prices from the vast majority of the traders and merchants she bought from that afternoon. There was no immediate shortage, but they had a very real problem of limited gold and she could no longer rely on the authority of her station to requisition what they needed.

Her errands were done by the time the sun was setting on their first day in Isrith. She walked a slow and leisurely path through the bustling streets, narrow and splashed with varying colors of fruits and fabric alike. People were clamoring for their last bit of business before the shops and stands were closed, and the noise and crowd surrounded her like a blanket of oblivion. They bumped against Kahlan, rubbing shoulders with her without apology, and also without fear.

She secured her ever-present hood around her face as she entered the busy tavern that was the first floor of their inn, quickly making her way through the loud and raucous noise toward the stairs leading to the rooms. Yet for all the conversation of happenings within Isrith itself, she slowed her pace when she heard talk of Richard. It turned out that Eldridge had quite the loose tongue; soon the entire city would know that the Seeker and Mother Confessor had died glorious deaths upon defeating the gargantuan form of the Keeper himself in pitched melee combat. Kahlan shook her head and started up the steps. They should be talking about Cara and Zedd as well; it wasn’t fair.

When she opened the door to their room, she found the blonde perched awkwardly on the foot of their bed. She jumped up as if stung at the sight of Kahlan.

“Cara? What is it?”

The Mord-Sith didn’t mince words. “Nicci is alive.”

Kahlan nearly dropped the packages under her arm. “What? Are you sure?”

She nodded grimly. “As sure as I can be without having seen her myself. Darken Rahl passed through Isrith two days ago and, according to very consistent local rumors, had a tall blonde woman in dark robes with him along with his normal retinue of Mord-Sith. She wore a large iron band around her neck.”

“He must have found her and had his Mord-Sith revive her before Richard…” Kahlan paused and cleared her throat, then set the packages down on the table and continued. “At least Rahl has her subdued with a Radahan.”

“Kahlan, he might not know she has Confessor magic. If he ever takes it off for any reason at all, all it would take is a touch.”

Kahlan frowned. “Well, Darken Rahl’s soul is immune to confession, but any element of surprise she has could help her escape. And if she does…”

“She would be nearly unstoppable,” Cara said. “Without Mord-Sith magic to repel her own, the only thing that could stop her is a more powerful sorcerer…of which there is none.”

Kahlan looked at her and put words to both their thoughts. “We need to warn him.”

Cara grimaced, but nodded agreement.

“We’ll need horses,” Kahlan said. “Tomorrow I’ll—”

“Already bought them,” Cara told her, eyebrow raised. “I had a feeling you’d want to get moving as soon as possible.”

Kahlan nodded in appreciation. “Then we leave at first light.”

****

Cara had seemed restless throughout the rest of the evening, but as she doused the lamp and curled up next to the blonde in bed, Kahlan attributed it to her eagerness to begin their pursuit of Rahl and Nicci. She also felt the urgency, due in no small part to the relief of having a purpose. Something needed to be done; it was a worthy task to save them from their listless wandering.

Yet even as Kahlan closed her eyes and hoped for another miracle of a peaceful night’s sleep, even as Cara’s hand tentatively came to rest on her side, she heard the blonde huff in frustration behind her. “I’m not tired,” she said, pulling herself away. “I’m going downstairs for a drink.”

Kahlan turned around as Cara left the bed and stalked to the door. “Your leathers, Cara?” she asked, brow furrowed. The Mord-Sith was still wearing a thin shift; long ago, Kahlan had firmly requested that she use one if they were to share the same bed during their rare stay at an inn.

Cara didn’t look at her or answer, she just closed the door quietly behind her after stepping out of the room.

****

She woke at some point in the middle of the night and immediately sat up, raising her hands to wipe at her brow as she caught her breath. Kahlan cursed her fertile mind for the many and varied ways it presented her with Richard’s death in her dreams. This time it was one of the worst; Richard had been standing on the edge of the rift on the beach as her confession didn’t fail, and as her hand left his throat, as his request for command left his lips, she couldn’t stop words from leaving her own.

 _You will die, Richard Cypher._  
 _  
Yes, Mistress.  
_  
He’d spoken the words adoringly before stepping back to the precipice and, without pause, falling backwards into the flaming chasm.

Kahlan’s eyes flew up when the door opened and Cara stepped inside. “You’re not asleep,” the Mord-Sith observed.

Kahlan fell back, head pressed against her pillow. “No.”

“Mm.”

It was Cara’s apology, in so many words, that she hadn’t been there to ensure Kahlan’s peace. She hummed her unneeded forgiveness and stared at the ceiling of their darkened room while Cara rejoined her under the sheets. It didn’t take long for Kahlan to figure out why Cara’s speech was clear and her feet were steady despite her earlier spoken intention—she didn’t smell of ale, she smelled of sex and someone else’s sweat.

“Cara, go clean yourself up,” she grumbled. “I smell…somebody else on you.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

Cara threw the sheets back and raised herself with a groan, heading back out the door to the washroom down the hall.

Kahlan sighed after she’d left. She wasn’t sure why it seemed to irk her that Cara so readily found distraction in the arms of a stranger, but she figured it was likely because, no matter how chaste their contact, she’d found comfort in Cara’s own arms only one night previous. Yet the blonde’s actions were almost comforting in their own way. No matter how much changed around them, some things would always stay the same—Cara would speak her mind without any thought of who was listening, she would protect those she cared for with her life, and she would always have a weakness for strangers in taverns.

When Cara crawled back between the sheets, smelling more like herself and less the victim of her prowling, she cleared her throat in question. Kahlan had no intention of appearing to be content with sharing Cara’s closeness so soon. “Oh, I don’t think so,” she said. “You can keep those hands off of me for the rest of the night.”

“Then why did I just—”

Kahlan hissed at her and turned away, and Cara sighed and shifted beside her. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’m not the one with nightmares.”

Yet for all her voiced displeasure, if Cara had gone against her wishes Kahlan wouldn’t have stopped her. And if the previous morning was any indication, they would be waking up very close to each other whether Kahlan intended it or not.

****

She couldn’t even remember what set off her downward spiral, but by midday the next day despondence had taken hold of Kahlan in an iron grip. Cara seemed to notice before she did; the blonde was shooting her wary glances from the saddle all morning, and when they stopped in the middle of the woods to rest their horses and eat a quick noon meal, she finally put words to her concern.

“Is something bothering you, Kahlan?” she asked. “Well. Besides…Richard.”

Kahlan reached into the saddlebags of her mount to rummage through food she had no desire to eat. “Should Richard not be ‘bothering’ me anymore? Should I be over his death now that it’s been a week?”

“No,” Cara said, unfazed. “I can’t do anything about that, but if the source of your suffering is something else, maybe I could.”

Kahlan sighed and rested her arms on the saddle. “It’s just…we’re on a quest,” she said, as if that explained everything.

Cara’s expression didn’t change one whit; she just stood by her own mount, waiting for Kahlan to continue.

“And we’re making good time,” Kahlan said. “And we shouldn’t be. Zedd should be slowing us down stopping to eat every two hours, and Richard should be here guiding us and making jokes and telling us about which trees will turn the color of autumn first. But they’re not. Richard’s not here, and we’re not going to round the corner and meet them. And…” She loosed a shaky sigh and resigned herself to sudden tears. “I miss him, Cara.”

She glanced to see the Mord-Sith nod thoughtfully, as if this were all expected and nothing was wrong. “Well, if Richard were here, I think he would want us to make sure Nicci doesn’t gain her freedom,” she replied.

Kahlan sniffled in exasperation. “I haven’t cried for three whole days,” she mumbled sullenly.

“Maybe you’ll make it four this time,” Cara offered.

****

She watched as Cara tossed enough water on their campfire to make it hiss and smoke. The resulting darkness swallowed their little corner of the forest, and Kahlan slowly laid back on her bedroll, trying unsuccessfully to wrestle her thoughts from the reopened ache in her chest. If it didn’t hurt so badly, she would almost be angry with herself for so easily falling back into misery.

Cara cleared her throat and Kahlan looked to see her standing with her own bedroll in her arms. “Do you need me?” the blonde asked plainly.

Kahlan returned her gaze to the stars above them. “Yes.” She hated how small her own voice sounded.

Cara wordlessly rolled out her bedding beside Kahlan’s and relaxed onto it. She looked at Kahlan expectantly as she spread her blanket over them both, but Kahlan didn’t turn around to give Cara her back.

She was suddenly lost in a dangerous thought, gazing at Cara in the pale moonlight. What if the reason Cara had sought the company of a stranger in Isrith was because, in the grip of ecstasy and release, she was able to forget? Kahlan would do anything to lose herself, to escape the heaviness in her chest, and right now there was nothing stopping her from finding out if such a thing was possible. Cara was right next to her, impossibly close, and all she had to do was reach out.

Cara appeared on the verge of voicing a question when Kahlan leaned over and pressed her lips to Cara’s own. The blonde promptly raised herself up on one arm and a noise of surprise left her throat, but Kahlan followed her up, eyes squeezed shut, and kissed her desperately. She couldn’t help but notice that Cara wasn’t kissing her back, and when a gloved hand came to her cheek, it didn’t caress her skin. It pushed her away.

Cara separated them, but Kahlan didn’t see disdain or repulsion in her expression, only confusion. She needed to clarify her intent.

“Am I not desirable?” Kahlan asked softly, tucking hair behind her ear. She licked her lips, slowly, then dropped her eyes in what she imagined was a seductive manner.

“What are you doing?” Cara whispered, so quietly Kahlan could barely hear her.

“I want to forget, Cara, even if just for the smallest moment. Like you did. And I can’t hurt you,” Kahlan said, almost eagerly. “Remember? I’m not a Confessor anymore. We can—”

“Kahlan. Stop.”

She did not expect Cara’s voice to tremble, and she did not expect to see pain in Cara’s eyes. But she heard and saw those things, and she felt ashamed to have caused them. She collapsed onto her back and tried very hard not to cry.

“Cara, why will you bed a stranger in a heartbeat, but not me?”

“Because you are Kahlan,” Cara answered, her voice tight. “You are not a stranger. It would be different. And trust me, you would only feel worse afterward. I can’t do this with you. I won’t…Kahlan, you’re broken. I couldn’t possibly.”

Kahlan repeated the words numbly. “I’m…broken.”

Cara’s jaw clenched, and she nodded once in answer.

Kahlan stared at the stars and realized she was quickly losing the battle to keep back her tears. “I don’t want to be broken,” she whispered.

“You won’t be,” Cara replied. “Not forever.”

Kahlan blinked, sighing when she felt wetness rolling down her skin. “I didn’t make it half a day.”

“Four days starting now then,” Cara ventured. “Will you still let me help you sleep?”

Relief flooded her when she realized Cara wasn’t going to force a more permanent separation. When she didn’t move or answer, Cara reached over and lightly pushed on her shoulder. Kahlan let herself be nudged onto her side, but this time she didn’t curl into a ball, and this time Cara’s hand didn’t stay on her side as she situated herself at Kahlan’s back. Her arm came over Kahlan’s middle, and more tears left Kahlan’s eyes as she closed them.

“Thank you,” she said.

The Mord-Sith pulled her a little closer in answer, and Kahlan relaxed in the warmth of both Cara’s body and her words.

****

They hadn’t been on the road for more than a few hours the next day when Kahlan was met with a golden opportunity to work off some of her angst and anger in a fashion no less physical than she had foolishly sought the previous night.

“We’ll be takin’ your gold then,” the bald man said, his crooked and toothy grin speaking to his considerable confidence.

Six grimy men stood sneering before them on the forest road—a motley band of thieves, doubtlessly hoping to rob helpless travelers by sheer intimidation. They weren’t even well armed; two didn’t have much more than a hunting knife. She exchanged a glance with Cara. They might be able to trample their way through on horseback and be done with them, but Kahlan didn’t know their mounts well enough to risk it.

Cara raised her brow in question, and when Kahlan moved to dismount she did the same. Kahlan noted her daggers resting in Cara’s belt; the former home of her Agiels.

“If any among you value your lives, you should leave now,” Kahlan said calmly as she walked to face them. “Because rest assured, we will slay every one of you that stays.”

One of the men, a hulking fellow, nudged a thin and swarthy man beside him. “She has a sword,” he muttered. “Maybe—”

“Quiet,” his companion hissed. “It’s two women.”

The bald man’s twisted smile faltered, but then grew wider. “Now, now. We don’t want to hurt ye,” he cooed, palms raised. “We just need your gold to buy food for our families, eh?”

If Richard were here, he might lower his sword upon hearing such words. He might even give them a handful of coins out of pity and try to be on his way. But Richard wasn’t here.

Cara answered for her. “If you think you can hurt either of us, you are welcome to try,” she said drily. “Though I doubt any of you can land a scratch. You there—you hold that blade as if you just picked it up for the first time.”

The sandy-haired man in question widened his eyes, swallowing as he looked down at the short sword in his hand. He flipped it in his palm experimentally and looked back at Cara.

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

The sword left his hand to land noisily on the dirt, and he sprinted off behind them. The bald man rolled his eyes. “Enough!” he snarled. “Kill them!”

The five remaining men rushed forward, and Kahlan smiled. She drew the Sword of Truth from her back, tightening her fingers around the hilt, and raised the blade before her, letting her body take over as the first man reached her.

It was, of course, a horribly imbalanced fight. Kahlan blocked his feeble blow and delivered one of her own that opened a deep gash across his chest. He fell back with a cry of shock, but her blade followed his movement and found its mark between his ribs.

She glanced to her side to see Cara whirling and striking; the Mord-Sith knocked one of her attackers off his feet and a dagger sank into his chest soon after.

Kahlan turned away from the next man’s clumsy thrust. She used her momentum to deliver a powerful blow near the hilt of his blade; the sharp clang of steel on steel followed and his sword went spinning into the air. His eyes widened, but he didn’t have time to shout words of doubtless surrender—the Sword of Truth ripped through his throat and his blood arced into the air instead.

Cara had downed another with a kick and a thrust; all that remained was the bald man standing before Kahlan, leering at her with his sword raised. Kahlan raised her own to him and a slow smile grew on her face—if she held her blade straight before her, just so, it split the sight of his ugly face in two.

He gave a pointless shout and charged, and Kahlan effortlessly diverted his thrust to the side. During the downward swing, her sword’s tip found purchase on the back of his knee and he stumbled forward, into the dirt, falling straight onto his face with a dull grunt of pain. His own blade flew from his hand and he rolled over, clutching his leg with one hand and raising the other in supplication. “Please, don’t kill me,” he burst out.

Kahlan laughed and stepped to his side. “I believe I made a promise to you that requires I do exactly that.”

She flipped the Sword of Truth in her grip so that it pointed downward, right at his chest. The man pulled his knees to his stomach and screamed, and the sound annoyed Kahlan to no end.

She fell to one knee beside him, driving the sword forcefully into his chest. He died with a sputter and cough and Kahlan kept the blade lodged in his heart, watching blood pool around the wound as she took a deep breath.

Cara’s voice almost sounded worried for some reason. “Kahlan?”

“You were right,” Kahlan said, looking up with a crooked grin. “Not a scratch. How were the daggers?”

“They’re dull,” Cara said cautiously. “From when we dug…why are you smiling?”

She quickly bowed her head as her face fell.

“Kahlan, you haven’t smiled or laughed since—”

“I don’t know,” she snapped. “I don’t know why. It felt good, taking their lives. They deserved it, didn’t they?”

Kahlan almost felt dizzy as her heart, peaked from combat, slowed. She’d never derived such pleasure from battle, never smiled grimly as she watched a man die. Maybe this was what being broken was like.

She pulled the sword free, wiping it across the dead man’s chest as she stared at the carnage around them. “Cara…is this what being Mord-Sith is? Embracing this?”

Cara didn’t answer her question directly. Instead she knelt and began to clean a dagger on the shirt of one of the corpses. “Nothing good can come of embracing it,” she said at length, looking up at Kahlan. “You shouldn’t embrace it. You should learn to live with it, and only as long as you need to.”

Kahlan hoped it wouldn’t be long; she didn’t like this new side of herself.


	3. Chapter 3

“We need a plan,” Cara said quietly, crossing her arms. “We can’t just walk in and request an audience.”

Kahlan paced tight lines back and forth on the forest floor. After three nights they’d finally caught up to Rahl and his retinue. They were well out of earshot and hidden in darkness, but Kahlan still spoke just as quietly. “Request an audience?” she echoed. “Cara, it’s a few people sleeping in the middle of the woods.”

Cara shook her head. “So you just want to stroll up to Darken Rahl, wake him with a kick to his side, casually inform him that Nicci has confessor magic, and then expect him to let us leave? He’ll try to capture or kill us, Kahlan. The Mord-Sith with him might not have the use of their Agiels, but we’re still outnumbered with no advantage.”

Kahlan frowned at the reference to the lack of her magic and looked between the trees toward the distant campfire, squinting to try and make out shapes on the ground. “We could sneak up on whoever’s keeping watch and make them give a message to Rahl,” she offered.

Cara canted her head, gave it thought, and nodded curtly. They wordlessly began making their slow and careful way toward Rahl’s encampment, weaving their way through trees and brush, and as they drew closer, Kahlan tried to swallow back an overwhelming sense that something was wrong.

“Cara,” she whispered. “That campfire is…big.”

The flames were reaching up high, the billowing smoke was black, and the base was far too wide to be a simple fire for warmth or cooking a meal. Kahlan stood straight and stepped forward around a clump of bushes, ignoring Cara’s furious hiss beside her.

She strode forward, her pace increasing as she took in the sight before her. Kahlan recoiled at the smell as she broke the edge of the clearing. A body, consumed by flames, was lying across the fire, and the only hint that it was such were the red leather boots on one end of the corpse. A glance confirmed that the other shapes scattered across the clearing were corpses as well. A fight had taken place; one of them had met their end and then fallen into the flames. At least, that was hopefully the order of events.

Cara joined her, seemingly unbothered by the stench, and waved a hand toward the fire. “Is it Rahl?”

“No, it’s a Mord-Sith,” Kahlan answered, stepping forward. “I would bet anything we won’t find Nicci here.”

Cara grunted and began turning over bodies with her foot. A weak cough startled them both, and only then did Kahlan notice movement on the other side of the fire. They exchanged a glance and each drew their weapons before moving to investigate.

Darken Rahl was lying on his back, shirtless, with his upper torso horribly burned and charred. Kahlan returned the Sword of Truth to its sheath and stepped closer to him. Rahl regarded them with eyes that were bright and sharp despite his obvious pain, and whispered something Kahlan couldn’t hear over the fierce crackling of the fire behind them. He was near death.

“Your shirt is missing,” Cara observed drily. “Did Nicci spurn your generous advances?”

Rahl’s mouth twitched, but he couldn’t speak loud enough to make a reply.

“He got what he deserved,” said Cara. “We should go. Maybe we can pick up Nicci’s trail.”

“And do what?” Kahlan asked. She nodded her head at the Radahan lying a few paces away. “The two of us against the most powerful sorceress in the Midlands…I don’t like those odds, Cara.” She kneeled at Rahl’s side, lowering herself enough to hear while keeping a careful eye on him.

“What a pleasant surprise, Mother Confessor,” he drawled. “Is watching me die once not enough for you?”

“Do you know where Nicci is going?” Kahlan asked calmly.

“Did you know,” Darken replied drily, “that our mutual friend is now a Confessor? That little detail…” He sighed before turning his head to regard Cara. “You two truly are terrible—” A violent cough interrupted him and he spit blood to the side. “—protectors. You let my dear brother die, didn’t you? My Mord-Sith were beside themselves at the loss of their magic. It was pathetic. They turned from useful tools to helpless and bewildered kittens in an instant.”

Cara knelt on his other side, clearing her throat and regarding one of the daggers in her palm. “I can put you out of your misery. Answer her.”

“Be assured, this is nothing compared to what the Keeper has planned for me,” Darken replied. “But I will answer you nonetheless, for I have no desire to die knowing that whore is going to rule the three territories.”

“What do you mean?” Kahlan demanded.

“She’s going after the Heart of Alric Rahl. If she uses it, the power of Rahl blood will flow through her own veins. She will control the Bond, and with it, the might of D’Hara.”

“I’ve never heard of this...Heart,” Kahlan said. She looked up at Cara, who shrugged. “Where is it?” she asked Rahl. “How did Nicci find out about it?”

He gave some semblance of an ironic smile, and Kahlan almost winced when he shifted his body slightly. She could've sworn she heard his blackened flesh crackle with the motion. “Because I was after it myself. Its existence is a well-kept secret, but Nicci is nothing if not resourceful. I was able to keep its location from her, but…she knows it exists. She will find it. And don't worry, it's hardly a heart of flesh and blood,” he added with a smirk.

He grimaced suddenly, taken with a fit of coughing that had tears streaming from his eyes. When it didn’t stop, Kahlan threw a frantic glance to Cara. “He’s dying.”

“Rahl!” Cara shouted. “Where is it?”

He sucked a deep breath, forcing out, “Deep in the Rang’Shada mountains, in the—”

A final wet cough stopped his words, and he stilled. Kahlan fell back to sit on the leaves. “It’s worse than we thought,” she sighed. Cara didn’t answer.

She knew the Midlands were still war torn from Darken’s attempts to subjugate them, and that was before banelings had wreaked their havoc across their width and breadth. If Nicci crowned herself Queen of D’Hara and gathered an army, the Midlands would fold with no chance of resistance.

Kahlan stared into the angry flames, idly noting that the charred shape in their midst barely resembled a human body anymore. “We need to find this Heart before Nicci,” she said at length. “The Rang’Shada mountains are a start, but we need more information. There might be old records of it in the Wizard’s Keep in Aydindril. If we travel quickly, we can be there in less than two weeks.”

To her surprise, Cara shook her head. “If anything, the libraries of the People’s Palace would have such records. It’s the Heart of Alric _Rahl_ ,” she pointed out.

“That’s also two weeks away,” Kahlan mused. “It would take far too long to check one and then the other. Nicci could find it by then.” Cara’s brow furrowed and Kahlan gave her a slight nod, knowing they were both thinking the same thing.

“No,” Cara said quickly. “Absolutely not.”

“Cara, it’s the only way,” she said, returning to her feet. “We’re only a few leagues north of Isrith. I’ll check the keep, you check your libraries, and we’ll meet back there at the same inn in one month’s time.”

The blonde stood quickly and threw her arms across her chest. “No. I won’t allow it.”

“Cara…this is important. We can’t let Nicci find it first,” she said slowly.

“I’m not leaving you!” Cara said hotly. “There’s no way I’m leaving you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Kahlan promised. “We need to do this. You’re not listening.”

“Oh, I’m listening fine. You want to run off by yourself and save the world again chasing after yet another piece of magic. But you can’t. Not by yourself. You need me.”

Kahlan was taken aback by her reaction. “Cara…”

“You can’t sleep without me,” Cara protested. “And you’re a terrible hunter. You wouldn’t make it, and I wouldn’t be there to protect you. I won’t allow it.”

Kahlan frowned. “I’ve learned enough from traveling with Richard for two years to keep me alive. Cara, what is this about?”

The blonde actually looked slightly guilty. “I’m not leaving you,” she muttered.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Kahlan sighed. “Help me look for anything here that might help. Maybe Rahl had notes or a map.”

****

The next morning the sunrise was blazing across the cloud-strewn sky while Kahlan finished saddling her mount in silence. They hadn’t said a word while preparing their horses, and hadn’t spoken much at all since Cara finally relented in acceptance of Kahlan’s plan.

When she turned around, Cara was standing awkwardly in front of her. “I still don’t like it,” she said, staring at the thick leather-bound book in her gloved hand. While their search of Rahl’s possessions hadn’t turned up anything directly useful, they did find two journeybooks that turned out to be a match—Rahl’s method of communication with a Mord-Sith temple near Isrith. If not for such a find, she would doubtlessly still be arguing with Cara. Or maybe she would have given up. The blonde was incredibly stubborn.

“Every night,” Kahlan promised her. “If I miss a night, I suppose you can come rescue me.” Cara didn’t look amused. “Which you won’t need to, because I won’t,” she added.

Cara sighed and knelt to rummage through her pack, eventually producing a package and shoving it at Kahlan. “You really are a terrible hunter,” she said solemnly. “I can hunt for my food, so you should take this.”

Kahlan opened the oilcloth wrapping enough to see a loaf of bread and plenty of dried meat. “Cara—”

“No, you’re taking it,” Cara interrupted.

“I was going to say thank you.”

The Mord-Sith averted her gaze, and Kahlan knelt to search through her own pack. “Here,” she said, producing a piece of smooth dark stone. “Use this to sharpen your daggers.”

“They’re yours,” Cara corrected her. “I’m just borrowing them.”

Kahlan shook her head. “They’re yours. I gave them to you.”

“What? When?”

“Just now,” Kahlan replied, venturing a small smile when Cara rolled her eyes.

Moments later, when they had packed their horses, Kahlan stood with her back to Cara and fiddled needlessly with the knot on one of the saddlebags. She hated goodbyes, but for some reason this was especially hard.

The creaking sound of leather came behind her, followed by the sound of reins and stirrups moving. She turned around to see Cara on the saddle, looking down at her with an unreadable expression. Kahlan was seized by a sudden urge to change her mind. She didn’t want to leave Cara, and it didn’t occur to her until that moment how badly she wanted the blonde to stay at her side.

“Cara,” she said. “I…”

When she hesitated something changed in the Mord-Sith’s countenance, but Kahlan couldn’t tell what it was. “I want you to be careful,” she finished lamely.

Cara just canted her head. “I can take care of myself,” she said, as if such a thing were obvious.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you since last night,” Kahlan said gently. “You’re still worried. I can be worried about you too.”

“I’m not worried,” Cara huffed.

“Let me guess—Mord-Sith don’t worry?”

Caught, Cara simply pursed her lips. “Every night,” she reminded Kahlan.

Her already-low chances of a hug were dashed, so Kahlan stepped closer and placed a hand on the blonde’s leather-covered leg. Cara looked at it as if it might sting her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Cara would ever grow used to such contact from her.

“Be careful,” Kahlan said firmly. “I mean it.” She forced herself to turn around and swing into her own saddle. When she looked back to Cara, the Mord-Sith was looking straight ahead and urging her mount forward.

“You be careful too,” Cara called over her shoulder. “You’re all I’ve got.”

Kahlan watched her leave, barely able to stop herself from calling out with whatever words might come, and it wasn’t until Cara’s red leather form disappeared between the trees that she was able to pick up her own reins.

****

The day passed in a blur of blue sky, brown forest road, and green trees, with the occasional splash of red or gold as she passed a tree changing to the color of autumn. She really should know their names; Richard had told her so many times. Kahlan had plenty of time to think, but she found her thoughts centered mostly on her task at hand.

Darken had spoken of the Bond as if it was possible to control the Mord-Sith, maybe even all D’Harans, through its use. Cara had informed her that control was less accurate; it was more a matter of devotion. The magic of the Bond tied the Lord Rahl to his subjects and without it, Darken Rahl would have been truly dependent on the goodwill of his people for their support and loyalty. She had mentioned it was “different” for Mord-Sith, but seemed to struggle with describing it.

Given Kahlan’s firsthand experience with Nicci’s hunger for power, she knew the sorceress would stop at nothing in her pursuit of the Heart of Alric Rahl. It was likely she would start her search at the same places they were, but even with a Han as powerful as her own she was still burdened with the need to travel such distances by foot or on horseback. It was unlikely that Nicci knew anyone else had knowledge of the Heart, and there was a chance she wouldn’t be in a hurry. Kahlan and Cara might have a single advantage of haste and speed.

She was glad Cara had such an eye for horses; Kahlan would make good time thanks to her choice. The black was solid and well-built as well as obedient and calm of temper. He also had no small amount of endurance, and when Kahlan finally stopped for the night the first thing she did was let him have his head to crop the sparse grass in the small clearing she’d chosen.

“I should give you a name,” she mused as she unsaddled him and began to brush his coat. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together alone. John is a good name.” He shook his neck and whinnied, almost as if in disapproval, and Kahlan raised her brow. “No? How about Nick?” That received no protest from the horse, and so it was decided.

As the sun settled behind the thick wall of trees around them, Kahlan cleared a patch of forest floor and built a small fire by an old oak tree, just large enough to provide warmth for her hands and face when the chill took hold of the night air. She retrieved the journeybook and Cara’s gift of bread and meat from the saddlebags by Nick before reclining against the oak’s trunk and wrapping herself in her blanket.

The first few pages of the book were filled with mundane reports, but it didn’t take Kahlan long to flip through them to the first blank page. Well, almost blank. Her name was written in question at the top. Kahlan popped open the small vial of blood—while she had no qualms about using her own, she had even fewer about using someone else’s—and dipped the pen in. She wrote Cara’s name under her own, also in question, for absolute lack of anything better to say.

Words immediately began to appear in Cara’s short and structured hand.  
 _  
Are you hurt?_

It didn’t take long for her to realize that Cara might have stopped earlier than she and had likely been watching the journeybook and waiting for her reply.  
 _  
I’m fine,_ Kahlan wrote quickly. _Are you alright?_

She stared at her own neat script and waited. When Cara didn’t immediately respond, Kahlan bit her lip, wondering if she had run into some kind of trouble already. When words finally appeared she laughed, loud enough to cause Nick to swing his head toward her and blink lazily.

“She said she’s bored,” Kahlan explained. The smile stayed on her face as she dipped her pen into the vial.

****

Kahlan laid under the stars later that night, wrapped tightly in her blanket and bedroll, and wished she could risk a fire. She was acutely aware that it was her first night alone since Richard and Zedd had died, and truthfully she had no desire to try and sleep. Instead she did something she hadn’t dared or tried to do before. Kahlan searched for remnants of her magic.

She closed her eyes and took slow and deep breaths, relaxing her mind and listening to her body. Normally when she released her power, it built from a place deep within and surged forth, ancient and strong, and tingled her skin as it left her. She searched that place within her, tried to call it forth, willed for the smallest hint of a prickle on her skin, but nothing happened. There was only the slightest breeze across her face and a very deep emptiness inside.

Kahlan wondered if the emptiness, this lack of magic, was what being normal truly felt like. She wondered if most people grew up with the emptiness and never realized it was there, and if she could ever grow used to it.

Her eyes flew open when Nick stamped a foot in his sleep a few paces away, and Kahlan tried to turn her thoughts to Nicci and the object of their pursuit. It was no use; nighttime was her time of torture, and without Cara’s presence she felt utterly defenseless. She stayed awake and alert as long as she could, eventually retreating deep into memories of lessons she learned long ago—dead languages not spoken for centuries, maps of the three territories and the old provinces and nations—but sleep would claim her eventually. Kahlan knew it was just a matter of time.

When her eyes finally closed of their own accord, Kahlan found herself in the place she hated more than anywhere else—the beach by the Pillars of the Creation, kneeling before the bodies of the Wizard and Seeker. She watched in sickened horror as blood streamed from Zedd’s throat into the hungry sand below. The small circle of wetness grew and, far quicker than it had any right to, soon encompassed Richard’s body as well. She fell back, trying to escape it, but the sand turned red and wet under her, and she raised shaking palms stained dark with blood.

Kahlan moaned as her heartbeat pounded in her ears, knowing the vision wouldn’t stop even if she opened her eyes.

****

The moon still had full ownership of the night sky when Kahlan woke shivering, not for the first time that night. Daylight couldn’t be far away but she couldn’t be sure when it would come. She had thrashed free of her bedroll and blanket during her poor excuse for sleep, and she rolled off of it with a sigh to kneel and fix her bedding. Her muscles ached from the exhaustion of constant tension, and she was struggling to push her last nightmare from her mind. “Cara, you were right,” she whispered thickly. “I do need you.”

Kahlan couldn’t believe she had thought this wouldn’t happen. A few nights at Cara’s side and a better mood did not mean she was healed. She raised her face to the sky. Maybe there was enough light…

She turned and reached to her things nestled in the roots of the oak, and her fingers passed over the hilt of the Sword of Truth to find the journeybook. After carefully removing the ribbon holding the leather binding closed, she flipped through the pages to find her conversation with Cara. The moonlight proved just sufficient to see the words, and Kahlan relaxed on her side as she began to read.

It was easy to picture Cara seated at her own campfire earlier, maybe eating a meal of freshly roasted squirrel or rabbit while staring intently at the blank page. Maybe she had sighed in relief and darted her hand for the pen when she saw Kahlan’s writing, and maybe she had even dropped her meal. She came across the Mord-Sith’s next words proclaiming her boredom, and a slow smile worked its way onto her face. Cara had rolled her jaw before making such an admission; she always did.

After reliving the few pages of their conversation, Kahlan traced the lines of symbol they used to indicate the end of correspondence. She closed the book and fell onto her back, somehow far more at ease. She didn’t try to think of Nicci, the Heart, the fate of the world, or old lessons. Kahlan held the journeybook to her chest and thought of Cara, and restful sleep came quickly and took her.

****

The days were becoming hard to tell apart, for they were all the same long stretch of forest roads and paths. The nights, however, were a different story. As soon as Kahlan made camp and tended to Nick, she would open her journeybook. She lived for the sight of red and pink sunset coloring the sky, for it meant that she could soon talk with Cara. She treasured their short conversations, separated by leagues of distance as they were, and Kahlan quickly discovered that speaking with her by journeybook was quite different. For all the blonde’s reluctance to speak of certain things in person, Kahlan found it strangely easy to coax such things from her in writing. She discovered that Cara longed for her Agiels, that she missed the pain—“perfect and comfortable”—that was supposed to be a touch away. Cara even admitted she worried about her—that took nearly a week, and she had surrounded it with phrases like “of course” and “a little.”

Kahlan would arrive at Aydindril quicker than she thought, but the city was still three days away. Tomorrow she would pass through the town of Oringuard, the last village between Aydindril’s gates and her current location. Truthfully, if she didn’t need provisions, she would prefer going around it. Oringuard, nestled deep in thick forest, had always been a refuge for those who preferred not to live directly in the shadow of the Confessors of Aydindril. It was a seedy town, full of dark alleys and darker intentions.

But for now she was safe in a grove of birch saplings, and as she situated herself before her small fire, she reached for the journeybook at her side. She had stopped earlier in the evening than usual, but when Kahlan had flipped through the many pages they had filled up, she was somehow not surprised to see Cara’s symbol waiting for her response. She smiled and reached for the vial and pen, but her face fell when she noticed her supply of ink had run dry.

A hunting knife of some kind was on her list of supplies to pick up from Oringuard, but for now the Sword of Truth would suffice. She drew it from its sheath and laid it bare across her lap, then sliced a quick cut across her palm and let blood drip from her fist to fill the vial.

They spoke of mundane things at first, during which Kahlan distinctly understated how dangerous spending a night in Oringuard could be, but it wasn’t long before she found herself admitting something she had no plans of revealing. Cara had made a habit of inquiring about her sleep and, though Kahlan always assured her she was doing fine, she finally told her the whole truth.

 _I can’t sleep without hugging the journeybook,_ she wrote. After biting her lip she added, _I feel weak, like a child with a favorite toy._

Words appeared quickly in reply. _You are the strongest woman I have ever known._

Kahlan glanced into her lap and saw her own blue eyes reflected in the Sword of Truth’s perfect surface. She didn’t feel strong, not at all…and of all the people in Cara’s life, she didn’t understand how she could possibly be considered such. She wrote back, _What of all your Sisters of the Agiel?_

 _You tower above them all_ _,_ Cara responded. _You always have, even if I didn’t always recognize it as strength._

Kahlan blinked at the sudden pressure behind her eyes. If she was so strong, then why was she about to cry with no idea why? Sure enough, as she looked down at the words Cara had written, a tear fell onto the page and blurred the letters. She sat straight in panic and wiped at her eyes, immediately wondering if Cara could see the words distort on her own book.

When her name appeared in question, Kahlan swallowed and wondered if she could get away with claiming it was beginning to rain. But as she put pen to paper, her hand formed different letters. The feeling that brought tears to her eyes wasn’t the despair, pain, or anguish that she had become so familiar with. Whatever it was, it was very much their opposite. Cara was doing this to her more and more often, even if she had no intention or knowledge. She always told Kahlan that she believed in her—even if never in such words—and that she could triumph over whatever darkness was haunting her. Kahlan was slowly beginning to believe her.

She looked at the three words she’d written and immediately followed it with her symbol to end the conversation. Kahlan didn’t want Cara to have to respond, she just wanted her to know.

 _I miss you._

****

She entered the wide-thrown gates of Oringuard late the next afternoon. Her laces were tightened across her chest, the hilt of the Sword of Truth was wrapped in cloth, and her hood was once again around her face. After stabling Nick, she went after her first order of business. Kahlan knew she didn’t appear defenseless—she was not a small woman, her dark traveling dress wasn’t exactly that of a simple villager, and she did have a rather large sword strapped across her back—but she still cast her eyes about warily as she moved deeper into the city. The buildings, all constructed of the same dark wood from the surrounding forest, were worn down, the cobbled streets were narrow, and it was strangely quiet.

The few inhabitants she passed made no remarks or indicated any notice of her passing. It was quite different from the last time she had been here. Kahlan remembered seeing men and women, both young and old, scurrying like vermin across these very streets at the sight of her white Confessor dress.

****

The sole innkeeper of Oringuard was a burly man with a broad chest and dark short-cropped hair, and his demeanor suggested he had been partaking of his own ale as he leaned across the front counter towards Kahlan. He peered at the coins she’d pushed in front of him, then back at her, then back at the coins.

“I’ll need at least double that,” he sniffed. Nonetheless, he reached a hand across the counter to toy with her offer, and Kahlan acted quickly. Her shiny new knife—double edged and more akin to a dagger than a hunting knife—was in her palm before he could blink, and its tip sank into the wooden surface between his splayed fingers before he could open his mouth.

“That will do fine for the room,” she informed him. He nodded dumbly and she tossed another small coin to join the few in front of him. “That’s for a drink.”

“Quite a temper for such a pretty face,” the innkeeper groused.

“You have no idea,” Kahlan assured him as he turned away to fulfill her request. _And to think it used to be so much worse,_ she thought to herself. After taking a relaxed seat at the counter, Kahlan cast a glance over her shoulder to survey the room behind her. If there was one thing she had learned in her travels it was that taverns were the same everywhere, and this place was no different.

A thick haze of smoke hung near the ceiling and the constant hum of conversation was interrupted often with raucous laughter and angry shouts alike. Oringuard, she had discovered, didn’t truly come alive until the streets were dark and there was no need to hide one’s activities from sunlight. Men of all ages, grimy and unkempt, filled the tables to a one, and ale flowed freely from beards to spill on the floor. There were few women present, save for the barmaid and a few whores plying their trade on the other side of the room.

She caught the glance of a fellow traveler farther down the counter—he was far too well-kept to be a citizen of this wretched place—and brazenly met what became his lengthy gaze. Dark brown hair fell over his brow as his eyes held hers, steel gray and sparkling, and the small scar by his mouth moved as he quirked his lips.

He rose suddenly and moved his barstool to close the distance between them, casually re-taking his seat when he was next to her. “So what brings you to a place like this?” he asked, meeting her eyes again at the last word.

“And what kind of place would this be?” she asked in return, taking a sip of her ale. It was vile; she almost spit it back into her jar.

“A hellhole,” he answered, turning to face her with a rakish grin. “Inhabited by the trash of Aydindril and the scum of the Midlands. The Keeper’s own city, if you believe the tales.”

Kahlan let an easy smile curl her lips. His speech was clear; he was well taught. Not much older than herself. Intelligent and handsome. She nearly sighed when she realized she was sizing him up as a potential mate. That was not her concern. Not anymore.

“It’s not nice to insult the place of a lady’s birth,” she offered, braving another draught to keep from betraying her jest.

His grin widened and he relaxed with his side on the counter. “If you were born and lived here, I’m the Keeper himself. You are far too beautiful to come from such a place as this.”

Kahlan smirked into her jar. While simple flattery was supposed to be above her, he continued to shower her with it and she decided to let him. It wasn’t much longer before she was asking the innkeeper which room was hers, and a glance from her served to assure the stranger that she wanted him to follow.

****

She burst through the tavern’s doors into the cool night air, hoping her lie wouldn’t become reality. Kahlan had stopped things cold under the guise of feeling sick to her stomach. The man—she never got his name—appeared duly disappointed, but had redressed and left without incident. She was grateful for that much. Kahlan had no need of enemies or ill will.

The streets called her name and she began to walk. The main roads were lit by lampposts, but there were plenty of pitch black alleys between the shops and houses she passed. There were far more people about than there had been when she first arrived, and she heard conversations both whispered and yelled floating through the chilled air. For the first time in what felt like a long time, Kahlan felt truly alone. She had warned Cara that she might miss that night’s journeybook conversation, but she wanted nothing more than to talk to the Mord-Sith at that moment.

Kahlan couldn’t decide why she had cut things short with her own nameless stranger. She absently reached a hand to tug and tighten laces at the memory of his rough kiss between her breasts. Maybe it was because Cara was right and she would only feel worse afterward. The blonde was experienced in such matters, after all. Maybe, if she did actually reach release, it would only serve as a cold reminder that she shouldn’t be able to do so with such indifference. She decided it didn’t matter; not really. Kahlan Amnell, Confessor or not, did not engage in casual dalliances, and that was that.

A distinctly panicked cry broke out from her side, followed by a fiercely whispered hush and no small amount of scuffling. Kahlan peered into the dark alleyway and there was just enough light to see a large man trying to press someone against the wall. The glint of a knife flashed in the darkness, and she could barely see glimpses of a blue and white dress for its owner furiously kicking and flailing.

It occurred to her that this was probably a nightly occurrence in Oringuard, or maybe more often than that. This place had its own rules, and if this woman survived she would be much better acquainted with them after tonight. But Kahlan could hardly walk away.

She drew the knife from her belt and ducked into the alley, quickly and quietly approaching the man from behind. He froze when Kahlan seized his neck and thrust the blade between his ribs to the hilt, and he loosed a strangled cry of his own before trying to twist away and fight his killer. She pulled the dagger free and promptly pulled him back against her, and a slice across his throat took his life with barely a gurgle in complaint.

She wiped the blade across his shirt before letting him fall heavily to the ground at her feet, then sighed and turned back to the panting girl still pinning herself against the wall. The brunette, a few years younger than herself, was far too pretty to be running around Oringuard defenseless at night. “What were you thinking?” Kahlan asked, almost angry at her ignorance and naivety.

The girl immediately fell to her knees. “Thank you, mistress,” she gasped, gazing up at Kahlan with wide brown eyes.

She was struck with a very strange sense of familiarity, even if words of gratitude were not quite the same as an adoring request for command. Oringuard, a pit of vipers, was the last place Kahlan expected to regain her sense of self, but she felt more like herself than she had in weeks nonetheless.

“Stand up,” said Kahlan. “What are you doing running around at night? What are you doing here at all?”

The girl stood quickly. “My business is my own,” she shot back, apparently regaining something resembling confidence now that she was safe. Kahlan wondered if she was about to be informed that her assistance had not been required.

“Well. If you insist on wandering the streets of Oringuard at night, I’d suggest you at least get yourself a weapon.”

“I have one,” the girl protested. “See?” She knelt, pulled a small kitchen knife from her shoe, and held it out for inspection.

Kahlan raised her brow. “That was a big man. You’ll need a bigger knife, and you should keep it at a belt or corset. I’m guessing you didn’t have to time to kneel.”

She began to walk out of the alley and the girl followed her, appearing duly impressed with her advice. “That’s a pretty dagger,” she offered.

Kahlan flipped the blade in her palm to regard her purchase in the yellow lamplight. The hilt was wrapped in blood red leather with a small green gem inset at the tip. Something about it had called to her amid the myriad choices. “It is, isn’t it?” she mused aloud. “I think I might get another like it before I leave.”


	4. Chapter 4

_I’ll reach Aydindril tomorrow,_ Kahlan wrote. _I might be too busy to write to you, but I will when I can._ She stretched her legs out before her, relaxing on her bedroll, and closed her eyes for a moment before reading Cara’s response.

 _Berdine is helping me search the libraries. Two more days and we’ll know if there’s any mention of the Heart here._

 _I don’t like you being there,_ Kahlan responded. _You said it was chaos. Hurry and be careful._

The People’s Palace, with its near-countless inhabitants, was leaderless, and D’Hara had hardly been blessed with immunity from banelings. General Egremont was barely holding things together in the Lord Rahl’s stead by Cara’s accounts, and the thousands of soldiers in the Dragon Corps, along with the hundreds of former Mord-Sith present, were growing restless. Cara had wisely chosen not to inform anyone of Darken Rahl’s death, but it would only be a matter of time before they deemed him missing or received happenstance news and things would ignite.

 _I said it was a step above chaos. I’ll be fine unless the dust from all these scrolls kills me._

Kahlan wondered if Cara had rolled her eyes. _Be careful anyway,_ she wrote. _It might take me three or four days to search the keep. I don’t know how much help I'll have._

 __  
_Berdine says she might have found something. Be careful._

Cara’s symbol appeared under her text and Kahlan completed it with a line across it. “You know, we hardly need a secret symbol,” she informed Nick. “I’d know something was wrong if she didn’t tell me to be careful every other line.”

****

When Kahlan joined the forested main road approaching Aydindril’s gates, the sight that met her eyes nearly stole her breath. A steady stream of travelers, young and old and everything in between, were plodding slowly toward the capital city of the Midlands—downtrodden refugees of the settlements beyond count that were destroyed and ransacked by the war with the Keeper. Kahlan kept Nick to the side of the road, and her heart broke at seeing the bare result of so much suffering.

These were her people. The Midlands were her lands, and no lack of magic or authority could keep her from empathizing with their plight. They had their heads down, shoddy and threadbare blankets wrapped around their shoulders, and even the occasional horse seemed melancholic. Entire families were huddled together as they walked, and there were plenty of travelers that seemed utterly alone.

When Kahlan passed through the massive stone archway into her city, she couldn’t help but think of how different she had planned her return to be. It was supposed to a jubilant celebration of victory; they had defeated the Keeper and secured life’s place in this world. But Richard was not at her side, Zedd and Cara were not behind her, and there were no trumpets or welcoming throngs of smiling people.

The sky was overcast and the dark gray clouds seemed to tinge everything with a bleak and grim light. This was not how Kahlan remembered her home. She passed solemn soldiers of the Aydindril Home Guard, staring straight ahead with seemingly unseeing eyes, their pikes and lances held ramrod straight before them. As she moved deeper into the massive maze of city streets she knew so well, things only became worse.

A light rain began to fall, but the grim-faced people traveling the broad roads didn’t even seem to notice the freezing shower. Houses and shops had their doors closed and plenty were boarded shut. Even Nick seemed to know things weren’t right, and she leaned forward to stroke his neck when he shook his head and stamped his foot.

“The Keeper won after all,” Kahlan murmured. She found herself thinking of all the times Richard had stopped them on their quest to save single villagers, and realized for the first time that Cara had been right when she tried to persuade Richard to leave them and continue in search of the Stone of Tears. If they had found it sooner, maybe things wouldn’t be this bad. So many people would still be alive.

The similarity of her current situation was not lost on her, and she increased Nick’s pace with a flick of the reins.

****

Kahlan removed her hood and made sure she spoke clearly. “Radge, it’s me. I need to see my sister. Is she here?”

The eyes of the hulking guard shot impossibly wide. “Confessor Kahlan?”

She didn’t have time to explain, so she confirmed his question despite the inaccuracy of the name. “Yes, it’s me. Is my sister here?”

The thick wooden doors to the council chambers were closed, and Kahlan could only assume Dennee and the members of the council were inside in session. Radge, the ever-present guard, quickly moved to open the doors. “Yes. Though I should warn you,” he said nervously. “Mother Confessor Dennee thinks you are dead. We all did.”

Kahlan stepped into the doorway but paused when Radge spoke again, this time in a whisper. “It’s good to see you back, Confessor Kahlan.”

She gave him a tight smile and nod before moving into the chamber. The massive stone room opened up before her, and her sister’s voice, strangely firm, was echoing through it as she strode through. “Now is the time,” she said. “While they are weak!”

Kahlan watched as her sister, seated in the largest chair around the wide circular table, turned her head to regard her. Dennee stared for a moment in seeming disbelief, then rose slowly. Utter silence gripped the chamber as others turned around to see her standing tall and straight before them.

“Kahlan,” Dennee whispered. Her voice carried across the room no matter how intimate she had intended it to be.

“Little sister,” Kahlan answered softly. “And Mother Confessor.” She bowed her head in deference and Dennee quickly left her chair, her white dress flowing behind her, to circle the table and meet her.

“Council is adjourned,” Dennee called out absently. “We’ll continue drawing plans tomorrow.”

Kahlan risked a smile when her sister stopped before her, and as the council filed respectfully out of the chambers, Dennee seemed to be trying to reconcile the impossibility of what stood before her. “How is this possible?” she asked, raising a hand to Kahlan’s cheek. “Your confessed were released. Every one of them. That can only mean…Kahlan, we mourned you.”

“I’m sorry to have misled you,” Kahlan said quietly. “My Confessor power was taken from me and destroyed.”

“Oh, sister,” said Dennee, pulling her into an embrace with her smaller frame. “Come with me. Tell me everything.”

****

They walked the familiar halls together, and Kahlan was glad that the home of the Confessors was unchanged by the chaos and carnage around it. There were still the same tapestries on the walls, the same rugs stretching across the floors, and the same windows letting in the nearly setting sun. Kahlan’s throat turned dry as she told Dennee of nearly everything that had happened. Her sister offered words of comfort when she spoke of Richard and Zedd and seemed dutifully concerned that Kahlan had traveled from Isrith on her own. Kahlan left out certain parts of her closeness with a certain Mord-Sith. She had no desire to dredge up hopefully-buried ire from Dennee’s past.

“So you think Nicci will find this Heart of Alric Rahl? And wage war on the Midlands?” Dennee mused.

“I can’t think of any reason Rahl would lie from the bed of his true death,” said Kahlan. “His only thought was to ensure that Nicci wouldn’t rule his kingdom. They shared no affection.”

“And what would you do with it instead? If you found it?”

“Destroy it however I can,” Kahlan answered. “And if not, hide it further. D’Hara will likely struggle in acceptance of their newfound freedom from the House of Rahl, but everyone in the New World will be better for it.”

“I’ll ensure you have all the help you need in your search here,” said Dennee. “Of course, I must insist that you stay here if you actually discover its location. Let someone else go hunting for it.”

The thought had never occurred to Kahlan. Not since the day after they repaired the Veil, when she had decided not to return to Aydindril. She could stay here. She could let someone else, a small army even, go after the Heart, and she could stay to help rebuild her city.

“I will give it thought,” Kahlan promised. “Dennee, when I entered the council chamber, you were speaking of ‘now being the time’ and ‘someone being weak’. What’s going on?”

Dennee gave her a tight smile. “Nothing to worry about, just politics. The kind you never had to deal with since you were off adventuring,” she teased lightly, coaxing a wry smile from Kahlan. “Are you hungry?”

Kahlan absently passed a hand over her stomach. “Very.”

****

She meandered into the kitchen after her meal. Kahlan always enjoyed thanking the cooks for their hard work, even growing familiar with the names of their families over her years spent as a Confessor in Aydindril. She graciously accepted their gasps of amazement at her return and inquired of their well-being, just as she used to. The smells and steam rising from the organized chaos were never something she thought she would miss, but it was strangely heartening to have her senses flooded with such familiarity.

It was with a furrowed brow that she inquired further when one of the cooks mentioned the possibility of being forced to leave. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice loud against the persistent yells, crashes, and hissing of flames.

“The Mother Confessor’s war is starting,” he answered. “It’s supposed to be a secret, but since I might be chosen to go and—”

“What war?” Kahlan interrupted. “With who?”

“With D’Hara, of course,” he answered glibly.

She gripped the nearest table's edge. “How could my sister not tell me we were under attack?”

“Oh, they haven’t attacked us at all,” he informed her. “She means to invade them.”

Kahlan nearly shook his shoulders as she grabbed the poor man. “You’re sure of this?”

“Very,” he answered, eyes widening. “The Mother Confessor has stopped seeing supplicants. She spends all her time with the council these days. It’s a pity, of course. The Midlands need their…”

Kahlan left him, storming back out into the common room to find it empty and the long table cleaned and deserted. Dennee was gone and the only sound was the crackling of the fire in the massive hearth at the front of the room. She could start her search of the keep in the morning; right now she needed to convince her sister to call off this madness.

She grabbed her things with the intent to drop them off at her old bedchambers and search for Dennee, but suddenly realized Cara might have left her a message. The sun had just set not long ago. Kahlan set her pack on the table, pulled the journeybook free, and flipped through its pages. Were she not so incensed, she might have smiled at the note she had left for Cara earlier that day.

The Mord-Sith had dutifully ignored it, instead informing her that she and Berdine had indeed found something—a map that placed the Heart in a place called the Cave of Rebirth. It was indeed deep in the middle of the Rang’Shada mountains, just as Rahl had tried to tell them with his last breath. Cara estimated that if they met at Isrith and struck out west, it would take a week of travel.

Kahlan set the book on the table and drew her pen, leaving her own note in quickly scrawled hand.

 _Cara, things are not good here. Dennee is starting a war with D’Hara. I’m going to try to change her mind, but I may not be able to._

She stood back a moment, then sighed. It was likely Cara wouldn’t read past the first sentence and would immediately strike out for Aydindril to needlessly rescue her. With a map for their objective found, Kahlan had no need to stay here beyond trying to stop a war before it started.

 _Wait for me in Isrith,_ she added, ensuring the letters were quite large. _No matter what happens._

She had barely finished the strokes of her simple seal when Dennee’s voice called from her side. “There you are. What are you doing?”

Such innocent words. Kahlan turned to face her and clenched her fist. “What am I doing?” she asked coldly. “What are _you_ doing, sister? What is the meaning of starting a war with D’Hara? Have you gone mad? The Midlands cannot survive another war. You can’t—”

“Kahlan, stop,” she interrupted. “Let me explain. D’Hara is weak from the Keeper’s war. Now is the best time to ensure we never have to suffer at the hands of those brutes ever again.”

“The Midlands are also weak!” Kahlan all but shouted. “Have you looked outside this building? Your people are suffering already! Your lands need their husbands and sons alive if they’re to have any hope of recovering.”

“It is being done,” Dennee said distantly. “In one month’s time, the armies of the Midlands will be assembled at the border of D’Hara. The council and my generals agree. We will crush the beasts for what they’ve done to us.”

“Brutes and beasts—Dennee, the Mother Confessor should be above name-calling.”

“I thought I was speaking to my sister,” Dennee shot back. “Not a disloyal subject. And what would you know of the duty of the Mother Confessor? You only ever held the title in name.”

“I was ensuring the safety of the Seeker,” Kahlan retorted. “Had I not, the Keeper’s creatures would still be running rampant. Don’t dare to speak to me of duty—mine cost me everything!”

Dennee sighed and clasped her hands before her. “You told me that Darken Rahl is dead and the People’s Palace is leaderless. The Mord-Sith are no more. Kahlan, how can you not understand what an opportunity this is?”

“An opportunity for more death,” Kahlan said exasperatedly. “Let your lands heal. Don’t rob them of their chance for life. Please, sister. Listen to me. D’Hara is a headless snake already in the throes of death itself. There is no need for this.”

“It is being done,” Dennee repeated. “Your magical Heart is only another reason for it. Should you fail, should this Nicci or someone else acquire it, the first thing they will do is march on us.”

Kahlan turned away, walking the length of the table in frustrated steps. “I won’t let you do this. Dennee, have you not seen your people? They suffer as we speak, and you want to thrust the nightmare of war on them simply because you can?”

“D’Hara deserves to fall,” Dennee said simply. “I won’t let this opportunity pass.”

Something clicked in Kahlan’s mind. “Opportunity for what?” she asked, standing rigid and placing her palms firmly on the far end of the table. “Justice or vengeance?”

“Are you implying this is—”

“Personal,” Kahlan finished bitterly. “What the D’Harans and Mord-Sith did to you was wrong, but this? How many council members did you confess to get your war? Did you—”

“Do not attempt to defend your pet Mord-Sith,” Dennee spat back, approaching the other end of the table. She pushed Kahlan’s things away and continued. “She’s as guilty as the rest of them. You said she’s back in the People’s Palace—she can stay there and die like the rest of her kind.”

Kahlan opened her mouth to reply, to defend, but her stomach sank when she saw Dennee glance down at the open journeybook before her. “Dennee,” she said desperately. “Look at me.”

She didn’t look up, and Kahlan felt the blood drain from her face as she watched Dennee read the pages she had left open. She was very aware of what was written at the top—her note from earlier that day.

“I miss waking up in your arms, Cara,” Dennee read aloud, her voice shaking. “Cara, things are not good…Dennee is starting a war with D’Hara.”

“It’s not what it sounds like,” Kahlan said weakly.

Dennee looked up across the length of the table and Kahlan saw only fury in her sister’s eyes. “It’s not a matter of what it sounds like,” Dennee hissed. “It’s a matter of what is.” She turned around and threw the journeybook forcefully into the fire behind her. Kahlan wanted to cry out, but it was already done. “You are a traitor!” Dennee shouted. “You sleep with my murderer, you tell her of our plans? Kahlan, she is D’Haran! She is Mord-Sith! She will tell them! You just ruined any chance of a swift victory!”

Kahlan grit her teeth, knowing Dennee wouldn’t listen to reason. “Then don’t go to war, sister. Please.”

Dennee gripped the table’s end and Kahlan saw her wrists strain, as if she was attempting to lift the massive thing. “Guards,” she called loudly, not breaking Kahlan’s pleading gaze. “Escort her to her chambers and ensure she doesn’t leave. I no longer have a sister, and I need to decide what to do with this woman.”

****

Kahlan walked the streets of Aydindril under moonlight, her steps quick and her hood up, and thought of only one thing—getting to Isrith. Getting to Cara. Escaping her chambers was as easy as it had always been; the adjoining balcony was the first step of a simple but acrobatic sequence that she had perfected when she was much younger. She wasn’t sure how Dennee had forgotten, but Kahlan meant to be gone before she remembered. She found Nick sleeping in the stable where she’d left him, and they departed together without incident.

Kahlan counted herself lucky that she still had her pack and everything in it, including the twin daggers she had acquired in Oringuard. One of the guards had thoughtlessly tossed it inside after her. She was only missing her journeybook and the Sword of Truth. Dennee would hopefully allow the latter to return to the Wizard’s Keep where it belonged. The journeybook’s destruction was far more problematic—for more than one reason.

As Kahlan passed under the gates of Aydindril, she wondered if she would ever return. Dennee had disowned her, branding her a traitor to the lands that she so dearly loved, and it was all due to a misunderstanding that nothing short of confession could clear up. Kahlan had lost the man she loved and her magic, and now she had lost her sister and her home. She increased their pace as she and Nick set out on the darkened road, and she tried not to think of what would happen when she needed to sleep.

****

The days and nights were blurring together in the worst way. Kahlan stopped paying attention to the sun’s travels across the sky; she used it for direction and nothing more. She slept when sleep would come, whether it was night or day, and it didn’t come often. When she did finally collapse her rest was always fitful, haunted with dark shadows and darker voices, vivid nightmares and invented memories. She could only hope such things would stay in her sleep where they belonged. They spoke to her of crushing guilt, of utter despair, of absolute loneliness and endless anguish, and Kahlan remembered every word and vision.

Nick was nothing if not understanding and patient with the sudden disappearance of her sense of time. Kahlan stopped when he let her know he needed rest, and she would rest as well, eyes open and staring at nothing, with her back against a tree for hours on end. She hated being awake, but she hated sleeping so much more.

The darkness in her began to seep through the cracks, escaping into dreams that had nothing to do with the original cause of such torment. The deaths of Richard and Zedd appeared less and less, and Kahlan instead dreamt of things wild, impossible, and evil in their abstraction. Her torture was taking on a mind of its own, and with her only tie to Cara destroyed, she was on her own to fight it. She wasn’t strong enough, not at all, no matter what Cara had told her. Every time she curled up in a ball of bedding against the cold, Kahlan desperately longed for the warmth of Cara’s body against her back, and she longed to hear Cara’s voice assuring her that she would be right beside her. Kahlan whispered to her sometimes, trying to imagine she was there, but the sheer desperation of such an act always brought tears to her eyes.

She ran out of food after the first week and, on her first encounter with people since leaving Aydindril, quickly realized she must be making some kind of sight. Citizens in the small town—she didn’t even know its name—pointed and stared at her from a distance. She didn’t care; she already felt like a ghost. Maybe this was what being a baneling felt like. Every muscle in her body ached with exhaustion, but she had long since grown used to that. She had begun to have headaches recently, and that did nothing to help her already-muddled mind.

The innkeeper stared at her coins as if they might come alive and cause him harm, eventually picking them up with a rag and placing them somewhere under the table. “You don’t look so good, my friend,” he offered. “You could use some rest as well. I have plenty of rooms free—”

“Rooms are for sleeping,” Kahlan interrupted. “Unless you have a powerful sleeping potion, a room won’t do me any good.” Her voice was harsh and grating and she realized she hadn’t used it in days, not even to speak to Nick. The man’s eyes widened a little and he simply turned away, doubtlessly hoping she would leave. Kahlan gathered her purchases into her pack and did just that.

She untied Nick and made to pull herself into the saddle, but before she did she risked a glance at her own reflection in the shop's window. Kahlan immediately wished she hadn’t looked. Her skin was pale, her eyes bloodshot with dark red circles beneath, and her dark hair unkempt beneath her hood. It was the picture of a madwoman. She left the village behind her as quickly as she could.

****

“Are you alright?”

Kahlan’s eyes flew open at the nearly-shouted words. The sun was shining bright through the trees; she was in the middle of the forest, not in a dark cave deep underground, and she was on her bedroll and blanket, not frozen and chest deep in rising blood. She sat up quickly, taking in the sight of a young man and woman standing before her. She blinked and realized man and woman might be too generous. Boy and girl would be more accurate. “Who are you?” Kahlan grated out. She immediately coughed, muttering an apology for the sound of her voice.

“We heard someone scream,” the girl, a blonde with strange hazel eyes, offered quietly. “We thought you might be in trouble.”

“She’s fine,” her companion whispered loudly. “We should go.” He took a step forward, placing himself in front of her protectively, and appeared positively unnerved.

Kahlan chose to whisper as well. “I’m not in trouble,” she told them. “Listen to your friend and leave me.” She watched as the girl regarded her and frowned, then unshouldered her pack and let it fall to the ground.

“Do you want to share dinner with us?” she asked.

It was hard to decide why, but Kahlan didn’t trust her. No one was this nice to strangers, especially ones appearing as she did. She wondered if she had fallen from one dream into another. “I already ate,” she offered weakly.

“Well. You look like you could use another meal,” the girl answered, meaningfully clearing a patch of forest floor with her foot. It hadn’t occurred to Kahlan until then just how little she was eating. Hunger was one of the many things Kahlan was ignoring in her body.

After building a small fire, the three of them sat uncomfortably around it and ate silently. The boy, seated opposite her, wouldn’t stop glaring at Kahlan suspiciously.

“That’s a beautiful horse,” the girl offered at length, nodding towards her mount sleeping on his feet a few paces away.

Kahlan felt a smile nearly rise to her lips, but she frowned when she had trouble thinking of his name. “His name is…Nick,” she replied. Her voice was still deeper than normal, but thankfully the gravel was gone from it. “He’s a very good horse.”

“I’m Gwen,” she said, venturing a smile. “This is Cale. We’re in love, and we’re running away to be married.”

She said the words with no attempt to hide her pride, and Kahlan knew from the look Gwen received from Cale that this was real. She had a feeling that if this were one of her more clever nightmares, such visible love would be nowhere in it.

Kahlan relaxed, truly grateful for the company, and when they finally departed, she wished them well in their new life together. Gwen, in turn, wished her luck in the quest she could barely remember enough of to tell them.

****

She staggered out of the stables and into the main roads of Isrith, very nearly dead on her feet. Kahlan couldn’t even remember what Cara’s horse looked like and thus had no idea if she was even here. She stayed to the sides of the streets, being physically incapable of walking quickly enough to avoid being jostled by the evening market crowd. Kahlan barely had the presence of mind to raise her hood. It wasn’t recognition she feared so much as any attention at all.

The world around her seemed like a haze of loathsome noise and color; garish, bright, and hateful. She bowed her head and put one foot in front of the other, struggling to focus on making her muscles work long enough to get to the inn they had chosen as their meeting place. The thought of sleeping safe in Cara’s arms was nearly enough to bring tears to her eyes.

She had arrived, she was so close, but as she meandered slowly through the streets, the corners all looked the same and Kahlan began to worry that she was in the wrong city. She couldn’t find the inn. It had moved, or maybe it had been torn down and rebuilt. Maybe she would never find it. Maybe she would never find Cara. This could be another one of her nightmares, and she could spend the rest of time searching these streets for a glimpse of blonde hair and red leather.

Kahlan wanted to shout for her, to scream in frustration, but her voice had long since left her. She could only speak in whispers, so she kept her mouth shut and her head up just enough to search for anything familiar, anything recognizable. She dove into the crowded marketplace when she saw a woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, but when Kahlan desperately reached for her shoulder the woman turned out to be far older than Cara and with a far worse temper.

“I’m sorry,” Kahlan mumbled hoarsely. “I’m looking for the inn…do you…”

The woman turned away and left, and Kahlan moved on to continue her search, eventually approaching an old man leaning against the signpost of one of the shops. “Excuse me,” she forced out. “What city is this?”

He smiled at her with a toothless smirking grin, and Kahlan’s skin crawled and tightened when his eyes flashed completely black. “City? Kahlan Amnell, this is the Underworld,” he cackled.

Kahlan squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed back the sudden flood of panic. “No…”

“No? I’m quite sure this _is_ Isrith,” he said. Kahlan risked a look and he was frowning, peering at her concernedly with eyes that were gray and decidedly normal. “Lived here all my life, young miss. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, pushing past him and back into the crowd. She stood there, alone, people milling around her, and nearly let her eyes flutter closed. She was so tired, so exhausted, so drained. She was on the verge of sinking to her knees, submitting to whatever the world wanted to do with her, when she saw Cara step out of a doorway on the other side of the street. Kahlan's world ceased to exist, her vision solely on the figure that seemed so far away. The blonde paused, seemingly scanning the crowd for a moment before turning away and setting off down the street.

Kahlan regained her ability to move and thrust herself through the crowd, breaking free of the market square. Desperation fueled her muscles with just enough energy to half-run towards Cara’s receding red leather back. When she was close enough, it took the longest heartbeat of her life for her to reach out her hand and touch her.

Then Cara turned around, and her warm and strong arms caught Kahlan as her legs gave out, and a very familiar voice spoke into her ear. “Kahlan?”

She looked up into worried green eyes as the Mord-Sith wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Cara…I couldn’t find the inn,” she muttered thickly. “Can you help me find the inn? I’m supposed to meet you there.”

“I just left the inn to check the stables,” Cara told her. “You just met me.” She glanced over Kahlan and her brow furrowed deeply, and she pulled her into a close embrace and whispered to her. “You’re safe, Kahlan. I’m right here.”

She buried her head into the curve of Cara’s neck and shoulder and was suddenly sure that she could fall asleep right then, just from the scent of Cara. Kahlan didn’t care that there were people moving around them and an angry man yelling at them for standing in front of his shop. She had a feeling that her scent, that smell of warm leather and Cara herself, would be enough, and that she would be safe from her darkness and her demons. But Cara felt her begin to sag and spoke very sternly, and Kahlan knew that she had truly found her Cara. “You are far too big for me to carry,” she said. “Just a little farther.”

Kahlan placed one foot in front of the other with Cara’s help, just a little farther, through the doors of the inn and tavern, up the steps to the rooms, and through the same door they had left through nearly a month ago. It was still light out, but she stood at the foot of that same bed, staring numbly at the rough wooden wall while Cara quickly undressed her and pulled a shift over her. She did the same for herself, and Kahlan was finding it harder and harder to open her eyes every time she blinked.

“What is this?” Cara asked worriedly, raising Kahlan’s hand.

Kahlan looked idly at the torn skin on her palm, ripped and bled by her own fingernails. “I do that in my dreams,” she whispered. “But it doesn’t hurt anymore. Nothing hurts anymore. Cara…I think…it’s going to be awhile before I wake up.”

“I’ll be right beside you for as long as you need,” Cara replied, her voice almost choking. “I swear it.”

With that Cara led her to the bedside and Kahlan collapsed onto her side. Cara joined her and pulled her close, flush against her own body, and wrapped them tightly together in sheets. If Kahlan wasn’t too tired to cry, she would have from sheer relief. She drank in the familiar presence and the soft warmth at her back, and she joined her hand with Cara’s over her middle. “Don’t ever make me leave you again,” Cara whispered, pleading.

Kahlan wanted to reply but she was falling out of this world impossibly fast. Cara’s breathing sounded strange and uneven behind her, and the last thing Kahlan felt was Cara’s hand squeezing her own.

****

She couldn’t even remember what woke her from her blissfully dreamless rest. It was still light out and the room hadn’t changed a bit. Kahlan sat up a little, blinking back the haze of sleep, and nearly jumped out of her skin when the door creaked open and Cara stepped in.

“I’m sorry,” the blonde said quietly. “I just needed water. You should drink some. Here.”

“I didn’t sleep that long,” Kahlan ventured, taking the offered jar. She winced at the pain in her palms and…well, everywhere. She was definitely feeling things again.

“Oh, yes you did,” Cara huffed. “It’s late the next morning.”

Kahlan took a sip, quickly following with a deep draught. “Oh. And I’m still tired,” she sighed.

“You look much better,” Cara offered. “Kahlan, what happened? The journeybook turned black. I could barely read the letters.”

Kahlan stifled a yawn, recovering from her start. “Can I tell you later? I think…I’m not done sleeping. I need you a little longer.”

“As long as you need,” Cara promised, stepping around the bedside to slip between the sheets.

Kahlan frowned as a thought came to her. “Why do you care so much for me?” she asked drowsily, slowly turning back onto her side. “It’s not like you. When you will stop so you can be yourself again?” Her frown deepened as she was suddenly taken further by a strange sense of familiarity. “Cara…did I already ask you that? I think I dreamed that I asked you.”

Cara was silent for a moment behind her. “What was my answer?” she asked at length. “In your dream.”

Kahlan yawned again. “You said you could never stop caring for me. That it was…how you broke. That you would always…I don’t remember. Then you kissed me, right here.” She tapped a spot on her temple. “I remember that.”

Cara never answered. She just pulled her close again, and just before Kahlan drifted back into the warmth of restful sleep, she wondered why and how Cara was what she was to her. She wondered how Cara had become the comfortable fire against her cold emptiness, the peaceful calm against her violent storms, and the single light against her vast darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Kahlan sat on the edge of the bed and examined her face in the small mirror, relieved to see that the dark circles were disappearing and her eyes were back to normal. Her skin would regain what little color it had soon enough thanks to Cara’s constant attentions in the form of meals and wine from the tavern. Her palms, wrapped in cloth, would take a little longer to heal—the only physical reminder of her two weeks of torment.

The silence was hanging thick between them as Cara stood before her with arms crossed, back leaning against the wall of their room. The sun had set not long ago, and they had decided to leave in the morning. Kahlan was finally feeling well enough to talk beyond short answers and phrases, but there was simply too much to say. For once she truly didn’t know where to start.

“So there’s another war coming then,” Cara said, almost sounding bored.

Kahlan nearly smiled. It was as if she hadn’t spent the last two days in bed with Cara, the blonde seemingly glued to her own skin. It was as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and the imminent outbreak of another bloody war between the Midlands and D’Hara was merely another small obstacle to be overcome; the latest in a long string of things the world needed saving from. But this time, there was nothing they could do.

“We can’t stop it,” Kahlan replied. “All we can do is continue on. We’re a week away from the Cave of Rebirth. If we destroy the Heart before Nicci can find it, the Midlands Alliance will crush D’Hara. They’re not prepared for a war.”

Cara did something strange then. She hesitated, as if she had bitten back words. The blonde was always sure of what she spoke. That was how Kahlan knew the thought in the back of Cara’s head; she knew it because it was in the back of her own as well.

“Then we should leave soon,” Cara said blandly.

“You don’t want to destroy it,” Kahlan whispered. Cara dropped her gaze then, and Kahlan rose to stand in front of her. “Your Sisters of the Agiel betrayed you, but D’Hara is still your home, Cara. It’s alright to want your home to survive. And I know you’ve thought of something else as well. If we do this, you can never truly be Mord-Sith again. You will never feel the bond.”

Cara looked at her, and she seemed every bit as exposed as Kahlan had ever seen her. “I already accepted the loss of the bond,” she said quietly. “But I’m not sure of anything else. Nothing makes sense. I don’t know what we should do. Kahlan, D’Hara is not such an evil realm that we should be wiped from the face of this world.”

Kahlan smiled sadly. The blonde had spoken of the country that betrayed her as her own. Such fierce devotion to one’s home should never be punished. “When I was a Confessor, things were always so clear,” she began softly. “Everything was the truth or a lie, good and evil, and I was always able to tell the difference with a single look or touch. But things are different now. I only know two things for sure anymore: Nicci can’t be allowed to use the Alric's Heart, and this war should not happen. We may be able to stop Nicci, but as I said, we cannot stop this war. We can only change its outcome.”

She bit her lip and waited for her last words to sink in to Cara, and when they did, the Mord-Sith promptly pushed off of the wall and took a step forward. “What are you suggesting?”

Kahlan began pacing their small room. She knew what so many people seemed incapable of grasping: that the people of a land were not their leaders. That when Darken Rahl thrust war after war upon the Midlands, just as his father did before the boundaries were raised, it was not the fault of the citizens. For Kahlan, the blame stopped with the soldiers. Those who carried out the will of such a twisted man were responsible, not the citizens of such a land. If it was possible that the citizens would accept peaceful rule, then she saw no reason not to make it so.

“We don’t destroy it,” Kahlan said. “We find someone good and just and willing to lead D’Hara against my sister, and we give the bond to them. That will give D’Harans a chance to fight back, not to retaliate, not to invade in turn if they should win, but merely to defend for the purpose of survival.”

“You would be making your sister’s accusations of betrayal come true,” Cara interjected. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, and Kahlan bowed her head and fought back shame.

“I don’t know if the Midlands should win this war,” she admitted. “But they shouldn’t lose it either. And neither should D’Hara. Cara…nothing’s clear anymore. I don’t know what we should do.”

“We have a week to decide,” Cara reminded her.

Kahlan gave her a weak smile. “That’s not long enough.”

****

The next morning they left Isrith behind them, traveling together under and through forest that had turned red, brown, and orange seemingly overnight. They were side by side on the broad forest road, setting a steady pace that had the leagues falling away under the hooves of their mounts. The air smelled colder and Kahlan absently wondered when Cara would finally get to see snow for the first time. The bundles of rather expensive furs they had purchased before leaving ensured they were well prepared. Cara had vaguely mentioned increasing their fortunes during the couple days she had spent waiting on Kahlan, and it hadn’t taken her long to decide that Cara would be dangerously good at just about any type of gambling a place like Isrith had to offer.

“Why Nick?” Cara asked suddenly.

It took a small moment for Kahlan to realize she was addressing herself and not her mount. “Because he didn’t like John, but he didn’t seem to mind Nick. What do you call him?” she asked, nodding at her own horse. The pair honestly made a bit of a sight; Cara’s blood-red leather seemed to stand out more against her white steed.

Cara looked down for a moment. “Horse,” she admitted.

“That’s a terrible name,” Kahlan admonished. “You should pick a better one. By tonight,” she added. The Mord-Sith narrowed her eyes and turned her gaze to the path ahead, and Kahlan smiled. She could almost see her mind at work.

****

The smell of freshly cooked rabbit was wafting through the air when Kahlan came back from filling their waterskins, and Cara looked up from her seat on the ground next to the fire. “Almost done,” she told Kahlan.

“Good. I’m hungry,” Kahlan said, taking a heavy seat next to her. “You know, I think I’m ruined. I might actually prefer this to staying at an inn. It can be nice.”

“Yes, the cold hard ground is much preferable to a bed,” Cara said drily, removing the spit from the fire. “And…nearly burned rabbit is so much tastier than a full meal of roasted pork and wine and—”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds awful,” Kahlan sighed. “But Cara…”

She paused as she watched the Mord-Sith dock their meal in half. Things had changed since they had last seen each other; their weeks apart had left Kahlan feeling much closer to Cara than ever before. Kahlan wondered if the blonde was honestly going to try and pretend their journeybook conversations had never happened.

“I missed this,” she said quietly. “Really. And I missed you. I meant that. And I wanted you to know that everything you told me meant a lot to me.”

The knife froze in Cara’s hand. “You remember,” she groaned.

“Remember? Of course I remember. Why I would I forget everything we said during my journey to Aydindril?”

Cara sighed in relief. “Your journey to—”

She stopped herself abruptly, and Kahlan’s eyes narrowed. “What else would I be talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Cara.”

The blonde shoved Kahlan's half of their meal at her, promptly and pointedly tearing a bite from her own. Kahlan winced; there was no way it had cooled enough to eat. Sure enough, Cara’s eyes widened and she chewed furiously before forcing a swallow. Kahlan popped open a waterskin and offered it with a rueful smile, and the Mord-Sith immediately took a deep draught of the cold springwater.

“Now you _have_ to tell me,” Kahlan informed her. Cara grimaced, opening her mouth and tentatively prodding at her tongue with a finger. She glared at Kahlan then, as if it were her fault, and Kahlan just raised her brow.

“I admitted things,” Cara said stiffly. “While you were…hurt. I didn’t think you would remember; you were never really awake.”

Kahlan was instantly filled with no small amount of curiosity, and she tried very hard to remember the specifics of the two haze-filled days of her recovery. She couldn’t pick out anything in particular. There was just the memory of Cara being close, her breath warm on her back and her voice soft in Kahlan’s ear, but no words came to the surface. “I don’t think I do,” she said, frowning.

Cara nodded in satisfaction, raising her meal to her lips and blowing across it. She was pointedly avoiding Kahlan’s unmoving gaze.

“You could tell me again,” Kahlan offered. It was worth a shot.

“Snow,” Cara replied curtly.

Kahlan blinked. She had hardly imagined Cara’s deepest and most shameful admission would be her already-expressed desire to see snow. “I don’t…”

“That’s his name.” Cara nodded toward their mounts resting idly behind them. Kahlan turned and looked at the Mord-Sith’s white horse, and the blonde glanced over her shoulder as well before throwing Kahlan a challenging look. “See? He’s not objecting.”

“I suppose it fits,” Kahlan said thoughtfully. “Cara…you’ve really never seen snow before?”

“It rarely rains in D’Hara, let alone snows,” Cara answered. “The desert Plains of Azrith around the People’s Palace haven’t been darkened by rainclouds in my lifetime, and the legends say they haven’t seen a drop of rain in the last thousand years.”

“Which is why the People’s Palace is so massive,” Kahlan mused aloud, drawing on studies of her long-time adversary. “The surrounding land is inhospitable, parched and dry.”

Cara nodded. “Stowcroft is on the border, so we had normal enough weather. But never snow.”

“Well, you’ll see some soon enough,” Kahlan assured her. “If not before we reach the mountains, then definitely once we reach the first pass. According to the map we’ll go through two peaks, a place called…” She frowned, unable to remember the name. “Where’s the map?”

Cara produced the yellowed parchment from between the pages of her blackened and scarred journeybook that, for some reason, she hadn’t tossed away or destroyed. Kahlan ran her fingers across the spidery lines of ink that formed the words and drawings. “The Shrieking Pass,” she read aloud. “Lovely. Anyway, even this far south in the Midlands, the Rang’Shada mountains rise tall enough to be snow-capped no matter the season. We’ll be glad for the furs.”

“Wait,” Cara said, eyes narrowing. “You can read that?”

“The map? It’s an ancient D’Haran language that hasn’t been used for centuries, but I learned it when I was young. I never thought I would actually have a use for it.” The Mord-Sith seemed dutifully impressed by her knowledge, and Kahlan gave her a small smile. “I could also draw maps from memory of the borders of different lands just as far back. The Plains of Azrith used to be split into independent nations; I can’t imagine why any people would want such a stretch of ugly sand and rock to call their own.”

Cara gazed silently into the fire as they ate their meal, and Kahlan eventually began to wonder if she had offended the blonde somehow. “I’m sure the sand is…actually very beautiful,” she offered nervously.

The blonde smirked at her. “Oh, it’s especially so this time of year,” she replied drily. “I was just thinking…you seem better.”

“So do you,” Kahlan returned. It was reassuring to see the Mord-Sith smirking and jesting and hiding her feelings behind a thick wall of sarcasm, just like she used to. Cara didn’t answer, and Kahlan distracted herself by looking down to the map once again. Her eyes traveled their journey over and over, and it wasn’t long before she noticed something that had somehow escaped her before. “Gar territory,” she said aloud, her finger coming to rest on a place halfway to the mountains. “We’ll pass through the southern tip of it if we go straight west like we’d planned.”

“We could go around it,” Cara ventured.

Kahlan nearly smiled. For underneath Gar territory were the birthing grounds and new home of a creature very far removed from the nightmarish Gar. “We will,” she answered. “We’ll detour a little farther south and meet some friends of mine. I’ve been meaning to check on them; I didn’t think I’d get a chance so soon.”

“Friends of yours?” Cara echoed.

This time Kahlan did smile, albeit mysteriously. “They’re your friends too. In truth, I think they’ll be happier to see you than me.”

****

Two nights later, it became evident that something was bothering Cara. She was seemingly lost in thought more and more often, and the idea of the Mord-Sith forcing herself to struggle on her own was having an adverse effect on Kahlan’s own mood. That night, when they burrowed into their nest of blankets and furs together against the cold, Kahlan didn’t turn around to give Cara her back. She raised herself up on her side and looked at the blonde, barely visible in the new moon’s light, and simply said, “Tell me.”

She was prepared to have to argue, to wring an answer from her with deft and precise verbal maneuvering, but Cara answered after a mere moment’s pause. “We should destroy it.”

“Oh. Are you sure?” Kahlan asked, grimacing at the pointlessness of the question. She felt like she should argue still, but no matter what choice they made, one of them had to betray their country.

“There is only person worthy of leading D’Hara, of holding that power,” Cara responded, searching Kahlan’s eyes. “There is only one situation where the Alric's Heart shouldn't be destroyed. You could take the bond, Kahlan. You are a strong woman, a fierce leader, and your sense of justice was not destroyed with your magic. I would follow you to the ends of this world, and so would D’Hara if they—”

“Cara, stop.” Kahlan collapsed onto her back, wondering how she could explain this to her. “There’s no way I could do such a thing. We don’t know how to use the Heart, remember? We only have the map to it. But…even if we did, I wouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Cara asked at length.

“I’m done, Cara. I have no interest in leading anyone anymore. That future _did_ die with my Confessor power, whether you’ll admit it or not. But yours doesn’t have to.”

Now it was Cara that raised herself up to look down on Kahlan. “What does that mean?”

“My offer stands. We could find someone else to take the bond and you could be Mord-Sith again. Cara, you could have your life back under a new Lord Rahl, one of our choosing that would be worthy of your service. You could serve him just—”

“And what would you do?” Cara interrupted. “In this supposed future. You say you have no home anymore. Assuming you no longer need me…will you wander the Midlands alone, then?”

“Until I find a place to stop.”

There was a pause, during which Cara settled herself back down. Kahlan, staring at the stars, could still feel the blonde’s gaze on her. “You would never stop,” Cara said. “You would never stop punishing yourself, Kahlan. Which is why I won’t accept that future. We destroy it, and we continue on together.”

Cara’s words brought the vision of the future she had begun to accept to life. Kahlan saw herself alone and exiled, roaming the woods and fields through all seasons, eking out a living from rock and stone, and it seemed to her to be a fitting punishment. Her dreams had told her it was what she deserved, but Cara was telling her she wouldn’t accept it. And her Cara was very stubborn.

“Then we destroy it and continue on,” Kahlan said softly, finally turning around to let Cara hold her.

“Continue on together,” Cara corrected.

****

It was long after the sun had set the next night when Kahlan dismounted and silently motioned for Cara to do the same. They were close; she could always tell. She had attributed it to the special tie the creatures had to Confessors, but Kahlan felt it now all the same. That ever-so-soft shimmering sound seemed to reach into the air around her. She and Cara left their mounts to graze on the edge of the field before venturing toward the middle of it.

It was a small meadow, enclosed on all sides by tall pines and carpeted with short and soft grass. There was another quality that Kahlan wondered if Cara would notice, but the Mord-Sith appeared too busy suspiciously darting her gaze around the darkness. “Kahlan, this is a field,” she whispered, “not a village. I don’t see anything. Your friends live here?”

Kahlan just smiled and tried to hide her excitement. It wasn’t surprising that they had chosen this as their new home; it was very much like their last, hidden away in an ancient forest. She remembered spending long nights under the stars in that field when she was a young Confessor, lying with her back on the grass and speaking to the hovering and glowing creatures around her. Darken Rahl may have burned that forest and field to ash, but given a chance, life was resilient. They took the chance Cara had given them, and they found another home.

When they reached the middle of the meadow, Kahlan took a deep breath and filled her lungs, and then she sang. She let her voice lift from her chest and carry out, as far as the air could take it, and the wordless song seemed to take on a life of its own. She closed her eyes as the last note left her throat and listened as the shimmering sound grew around them, taking on swells and notes of its own as they sang back to her.

Cara’s voice broke out beside her, hushed with awe. “Kahlan, look. Night wisps.”

The deep darkness of night had given way to innumerable small specks of silvery blue light in the trees around the meadow. It was almost hard to tell where the star-filled sky ended and the treetops began, and Kahlan smiled, her chest soaring from the sight. It was beautiful. They continued to sing her song as they began to float closer, and Kahlan risked a glance at Cara beside her.

The Mord-Sith was wide-eyed, her face slack and lips slightly parted. There were very few things in the world that could amaze Cara, but Kahlan knew she had found one. “There’s so many,” Cara whispered. “And they’re all babies, they won’t…recognize me, will they? They were just born when I…”

“Night wisps are magical creatures,” Kahlan reminded her quietly. “Their lives are far shorter, so they grow more quickly. They also keep the memories of their mother. They knew my song even though I’ve never met them.”

Cara continued to stare in wonder at the sight around her, and she picked what Kahlan thought an odd time to notice something else. “It’s warm,” she said. “How is it warm?”

“The home of the night wisps is comfortable to all living creatures that they consider their friends, no matter the season,” Kahlan explained, even as her smile broadened. “Cara…they look happy to see you.”

The specks of light had taken on shapes and ceased to float lazily. The first of them were mere paces away when they began to bound and zip vigorously through the air, and the shimmering sound gave way to something distinctly more energetic and tinkling. The field then erupted in motion, and Kahlan watched as they began to crowd and circle around them, spinning and dancing, filling the air with their light and sound.

Kahlan bit her lip as she reached for Cara’s hand. The blonde turned to look at her, her brow raising in question, but Kahlan just smiled and raised it up before her, and a wisp immediately lit on her fingers. A smile, tentative at first, broke across Cara’s face, but the wisp bounded up and back down to land on her hand, and Cara laughed. A short laugh, but a laugh born of joy nonetheless. _Her smile could put the sun to shame,_ Kahlan thought. “Sit down,” she suggested. “So we can talk.”

They sat together slowly in the grass, side by side, and the wisps quieted somewhat. They welcomed them, they thanked Cara—they called her the “bright one” for some reason—for saving their lives and comforting their mother, and they asked what had brought them to their new home. Kahlan, in turn, told them of their loss, of what the world faced, and of their plans.

The wisps listened carefully, and their song changed. Their motion slowed and grew languid, almost sad, and Cara turned to her. “What are they doing?” she whispered.

Kahlan fell slowly onto her back, gazing up at the floating lights. She knew wisps were emotive and empathic creatures, but somehow this took even her by surprise. “They’re singing a lament for the death of my magic,” she answered, her own voice hushed in awe.

Cara joined her on the ground. “Why not Richard or Zedd?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask them.”

Their song complete, the wisps did something else unexpected. They separated them, meaningfully but gently, by crowding between them, and Kahlan ran her hand reassuringly down Cara’s arm before edging herself away.

She stretched out on the grass, and a few wisps floated free of the others and came to a hovering rest above her. _You are hurt, Kahlan,_ they said. _Your friend asked you why we were not mourning the death of your mate. How could we when you have not?_

“Richard was never my mate,” Kahlan explained. “He never had the chance to be. He was…something else.”

 _You loved him all the same, and now he is gone. Tell us._

She hesitated, then opened the floodgates, just as she used to so many years ago. She told them of every detail of her pain, of her nightmares, and of her anguish and her guilt. They listened carefully, sadly, and when she finally stopped, her throat was dry and she realized she had been crying. The wisps hovered above, moving and talking to each other, and then spoke to her.

 _Why have you not mourned him? Why do you choose to remember him through pain?_

Kahlan blinked. She knew better than try and make excuses or lie to night wisps, so she told the truth. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I didn’t know I was…doing that.”

 _Your guilt is keeping your pain locked away, and it is ruining your heart. Remember him properly and relinquish your guilt, and your darkness will be kept at bay._

“It won’t…go away?” Kahlan asked. She had to ask, even if it made her feel like a small child afraid of a more literal dark.

 _Your loss is permanent, and thus your darkness,_ they answered. _But it does not have to rule you. Your rest is haunted because you believe yourself guilty and weak. We know you, Kahlan Amnell. You are neither of those things._

“You sound like Cara,” Kahlan mumbled. She was struck by a thought then, and figured it might be worth a try. “Why does she…keep my darkness away? Why can I only sleep when I’m with her?”

They spun at this, circling each other for a moment, and finally answered just when Kahlan was wondering if they would answer at all. _Because of both her own darkness and her light. Your friend has much more of both than she will likely ever show._

Kahlan looked at Cara then, raising herself up onto her side, and the sight stole her breath. Cara was on her back on the grass, surrounded by slowly circling lights, her hand still raised before her. A single wisp was perched on her fingers, likely the same one, and Cara was crying. Her chest wasn’t rising and falling in deep sobs, but her face was wet with tears and her eyes were shining with them. Her lips formed seemingly silent words, and Kahlan was again reminded of the way night wisps could strip away a person’s defenses and leave them bare.

She made to rise, instinctively needing to comfort, but the wisps promptly chided her. _Let her be,_ they said. _Tell us of Richard Cypher._

Kahlan laid back down. It was such a simple request, but where could she start? She began to talk, slowly at first, but gaining sureness and strength. She spoke of when they met, of their journeys together, of his qualities and what she loved about him. Kahlan felt the weight leave her mind and realized that this didn’t hurt. She remembered everything that had happened, exactly as it _had_ happened, and she accepted it.

Eventually a hesitant voice came from her side. “He was also a good teacher. I wouldn’t know how to hunt if he hadn’t taught me.”

Kahlan turned her head to see Cara standing there, looking somehow both apprehensive and relieved. She had wiped her cheeks, but from the small smile Cara gave her, Kahlan knew she was very aware of her state. Kahlan returned her smile and beckoned her to lay beside her. The Mord-Sith did so tentatively, and Kahlan wasted no time moving herself closer, so that they lay shoulder to shoulder, and she took Cara’s hand tightly with her own.

“I tried to confess him, Cara,” she said quietly. “I don’t think I ever told you this. Before I killed him I tried to confess him, and it didn’t work. Sometimes I wonder if he was right all the times he told me that he loved me too much anyway, that he couldn’t love me any more than he already did and confession would fail. I can never know for sure.”

Cara didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. She just shifted a little beside her, perhaps to let Kahlan know that she had heard.

“And he once told me,” Kahlan said, “that if he ever died, he wanted me to be happy without him. To move on, and make the most of life that I could. He said I was too beautiful to spend my life being sad.”

“What did you say?” Cara asked.

Kahlan took a deep breath, watching the wisps float above them. “I told him, I vowed that…I would never let him die. So he shouldn’t think like that.”

Cara squeezed her hand and spoke quietly. “He tried to tell me something similar. He said that, if he ever died, he knew it wouldn’t be for lack of me trying to save him.”

“He tried?”

“I didn’t let him finish. I told him the same thing you did, but I wasn’t as nice about it.”

Kahlan laughed then, turning her head to look at the blonde, and Cara couldn’t meet her gaze for long before a broad smile grew on her own face.

****

By the time they’d talked themselves dry, they only had a few hours left until daylight. Darkness reclaimed the field as they bid the tiny creatures farewell. They both needed rest. Kahlan felt absolutely drained, though this time it was in a good way. They made their customary bedding of stacked bedrolls and blankets—minus the furs since they were sleeping on the edge of the meadow—and Kahlan knew, somehow, that she no longer needed to be in Cara’s arms to sleep. So when she laid on her side, instead facing the blonde, Cara just waited for whatever words she probably knew were coming, whatever they may be.

“I don’t think I need you anymore,” Kahlan told her softly. “But I still want to sleep with you, if you don’t mind.”

Cara closed her eyes then, for a little longer than Kahlan thought she might, and she quickly realized that her words could be misconstrued. “Oh, Spirits,” she murmured. “Cara, I will always need you. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I think I won’t have dreams anymore. But I really do want to sleep with you.”

“Stop saying that,” Cara whispered, finally opening her eyes. “Unless you truly mean it.” The way Cara’s brow was furrowed, the way she gazed at Kahlan as if she was pleading for something, begging her to understand, finally triggered something in Kahlan.

When it hit her, it did so with the weight of every block of stone in Aydindril and the People’s Palace combined. Somehow it didn’t leave her stunned, and she didn’t give it too much thought; she might end up changing her mind.

“Cara, I want to,” Kahlan whispered back.

It was hard to tell what happened first, who reached for who, but all Kahlan knew was that Cara’s skin tasted good and the blonde’s hands clutching at her back felt even better. Kahlan raised herself up and over Cara, and as she kissed her way down the Mord-Sith’s neck and Cara’s breathing grew quick and hot in her ear, she decided that if this felt wrong in the morning, or proved to be a bad decision, they could blame it on any number of things. But right now, for what remained of tonight, she would repay Cara’s comfort and what she had just revealed to be her incredible patience. It felt just right enough to keep going and, thanks to the warmth suddenly building in her lower belly, it felt far too good to stop. Tomorrow they would be friends again, but for tonight…they would be something else entirely.

****

Kahlan never really had normal mornings anymore, but this one was especially strange. The sun was already high in the cloudless sky when she woke, and she barely avoided jumping up and away from their bedding. She didn’t have a stitch of clothing on under the blanket, and neither did the Mord-Sith wrapped around her with her head nestled into Kahlan’s chest. After waiting a tense moment, she decided Cara was still asleep.

She used the respite to carefully gauge her own feelings, but she didn’t feel any regret whatsoever. There was guilt, of course, but somehow she knew Richard would have preferred she do this with Cara over a nameless stranger. Kahlan hadn’t even felt the emptiness, the painful lack of her magic, that she had expected when the Mord-Sith brought her to release—for how could she possibly feel empty when Cara was in her arms?

Right then she only felt warm and comfortable, and as much as she didn’t want to move, they had slept far too late. “Cara,” she whispered, nudging the blonde’s shoulder slightly. As usual it didn’t take much, and the blonde started awake in an instant. Kahlan watched, slightly amused, as Cara went through the same process she just did. “It’s alright,” she said. “I just need you to get off of me so we can leave.”

“Kahlan, I’m—”

She cut Cara short with a hand over her mouth, and the blonde’s eyes flew wide. “Don’t you try to apologize,” Kahlan said firmly. “Whatever that was, you don’t need to be sorry for it. I’m not.”

With that she sat up and began to dress herself, and it wasn’t long before she heard a telltale clearing of the Mord-Sith’s throat behind her. “The wisps,” Cara announced, “make me do strange things. I think you’ve noticed.”

It was an acceptable excuse, Kahlan supposed. They did have a way of stripping away defenses. She knew better than to try and blame the night’s events completely on the tiny creatures, but as Kahlan turned to see the blonde halfway into her leathers, she decided not to press the issue. “They are magical creatures, after all,” she offered. Cara, in return, just nodded solemnly.

****

Kahlan stared at Nick’s thick black mane in front of her, tossed as it was by a sudden gust of wind. They clearly needed to talk more about this issue before it actually became one. She had never expected Cara to act so strangely, so embarrassed or even ashamed, about sex. It was a very strange reversal. The Mord-Sith was averting her glances throughout the rest of the day, as if Kahlan were the object of a young and awkward romance, and now that the day was nearly coming to an end she honestly couldn’t bear the sight.

“Will you stop?” Kahlan huffed out, resisting the urge to pull Nick to a halt. “It’s as if you’re scared to look at me. I told you not to be sorry, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry anyway,” Cara answered distantly. “I lost control. It was just…hearing you say it like that. After all the…”

Her words trailed off, and Kahlan’s next question was a little quieter and far gentler. “Was it difficult then? To sleep with your arms around me for all those nights?”

“…Yes.”

Kahlan gripped the reins a little tighter. “And when I tried to…force myself on you? That one night,” she asked, her voice steady despite the shame she felt. It was the first time they’d spoken of it.

There was a longer pause this time before Cara’s answer. “Yes.”

“Then I am sorry. For putting you through that.”

“It was never supposed to…Kahlan, I was supposed to be giving you comfort, not wanting you.”

Kahlan gave her a reassuring smile. “Well, you are Cara. You typically get what you want,” she teased. “And I don’t think less of you for your wants; the mind and body are often keen to separate in their intent. And Cara…” She looked away and cleared her throat, unable to keep her cheeks from flaming pink and warm against the chilled air. “…it was very good. I think I needed that. And maybe, if we get through all this, we could do that again sometime,” she offered nervously. “Maybe, if we get through all this, eventually we could make normal lives somewhere, and pretend to be normal women. But until then, maybe I could be yours, on the occasional night.”

She bit her lip and risked a glance at Cara, who was looking at her with a strange expression that Kahlan couldn’t place. It was sad, almost. “Until then,” Cara said, turning her gaze back to the road ahead. It didn’t sound like she had just agreed to anything at all.

Kahlan was saved from further contemplation when they broke free of the forest into a small and narrow valley; the last dip in the land before the Rang’Shada mountains soared tall and white like the end of the world before them. There was a small village directly in their path, nestled in the center. It wasn’t much more than striped patches of farmland with a river running down their middle, and a dozen clustered buildings at most were casting long shadows from the nearly setting sun. While there was no chance of an inn, perhaps Cara would still be able to enjoy another soft bed before finding out how harsh snow and wind could really be.


	6. Chapter 6

Kahlan walked briskly up the steps and rapped her knuckles on the wooden door. It was the first inhabited home they’d come across in the tiny valley settlement, given away by the steady glow of firelight from the windows. It was just past dusk, but there was still that lingering light outside that tinted everything dark blue.

“Cara,” she hissed. “Come up here. Stop skulking behind me; they’ll think we’re up to no good.”

The blonde stepped up beside her. “I wasn’t skulking,” she muttered. “I was watching.”

The opening door, accompanied by a waft of warm air and the scent of a home-cooked meal, caused Kahlan to bite back her response. A portly woman with a kind face and an inquisitive young boy for a leg greeted them with a gasp. “Visitors! Spirits save us.” She turned around and yelled, far too loud for a house so small, “Earl! We have guests!”

****

The house next door was a small and rustic home, consisting of two tiny bedrooms and a joined kitchen and main room. It was also dark, cold, and completely empty. There were remnants of past lives scattered throughout; wooden walls were weathered and cracked, there were marks on the table, and there were scuffs everywhere scuffs were possible. It seemed to Kahlan that they were intruding on someone’s privacy, but Merith, the generous and bustling housewife they had met after coming into the village and knocking on the first door they saw, assured them that the owners were “quite dead” and that their sons had “moved on” and it would be “quite a shame” if the house went unused when there were two such persons in need as themselves. That offer was, of course, extended after explaining that every bed and surface was taken in their own home by their considerable “brood,” as Cara callously called them upon their exit.

“She said there was firewood,” Cara said, frowning at the bare fireplace.

“Maybe it’s outside,” Kahlan ventured. The blonde nodded at this and left to investigate, and Kahlan dropped her pack on the table before making a quick circuit of the interior with the lamp borrowed from Merith. The beds were intact, somehow free of rodents, and she found that the kitchen’s cupboards still had a few pots and pans. They had just enjoyed the simple but savory fare of Merith’s table, but it was nice to know they could break their fast with something more than berries in the morning if they so desired.

Cara stomped heavily back inside with arms full of wood, and it wasn’t much longer before there was a strong and bright fire in the hearth. Kahlan stood, somewhat awkwardly, by one of the walls while the Mord-Sith took a seat at one of the dinner table benches, pulled out her daggers and sharpening stone, and quickly occupied herself. She seemed glad to focus on her task; Kahlan decided it was likely due to being forced to eat surrounded by curious youngsters.

“Children are not animals, you know,” Kahlan said at length.

“I know that,” Cara responded evenly.

“You told her ‘bad girl’, Cara.”

“Well, she was,” the blonde shot back. “She reached for one of my daggers. And you didn’t have to hiss at me like that.” She drew sparks from the stone with a firm stroke on the steel, following with a mumbled, “I hate it when you hiss at me.”

“I don’t hiss at you. Do I?”

“When you disapprove, you hiss,” Cara informed her.

“Oh. I’m sorry, then.”

“Are you going to sit down? You’re making me tense.”

Kahlan glanced down at the worn wooden flooring. It was strange, taking over someone else’s home for the night. There was a feeling that it wasn’t right somehow. She needed to figure out a quick and easy way to make it theirs.

“Help me move the table,” Kahlan said suddenly. “Closer to the fire.”

Cara shot her an indecipherable glance, but slammed the dagger’s point into the tabletop and stood, moving to one end and clearing her throat. Kahlan helped her lift, and together they shifted the heavy wooden table a few paces, right in front of the hearth. “Better?” Cara asked, retaking her seat.

Kahlan sat down slowly across from her, glancing around. “Much. Do you always dull daggers right after you sharpen them?”

She honestly wasn’t sure why her tongue was suddenly so acidic and biting, and nearly apologized on the spot. Cara wordlessly pulled the blade free from the wood and resumed her work, focusing on the tip this time. Kahlan crossed her arms on the tabletop and lowered her chin to rest on her forearms. She hated not knowing the reason behind her feelings, and as she alternated between watching the flames dance and watching Cara sharpen methodically, she explored her feelings and gave them thought.

It was possible this was somehow a lingering effect of laying with Cara only the previous night. The blonde had warned her a month ago that she would feel worse afterward, but Kahlan assumed she had bypassed that when she woke up feeling so…good. Maybe her recovery, her healing, would always be two steps forward and one such step back. It was also possible that it was latent stress over their mission. They hadn’t heard any word of Nicci since Isrith, and her absence bothered Kahlan to no end. For an aspiring tyrant, she was strangely quiet. She might well be waiting to tip her hand until she had the power of the Rahls to complete her own. But neither of those things explained why Kahlan’s vexation had emerged upon stepping into this quaint and harmless village, and very much upon stepping into this temporary home.

Her gaze traveled up, raising her brow with it until it rested on Cara’s own eyes, focused as they were on her work. Then it came to her. This was a taste of domesticity and normalcy for them both. Spending a night in a vacant home together was akin to practice for that eventual “normal life” she had spoken of when looking down on this valley from above. As usual, the Mord-Sith seemed to sense she was being watched, and Kahlan gave her a mirthless smile.

“I can never be normal, Cara,” she said quietly, dropping her gaze back to the fire. “I can’t lead nations, I can’t be a Confessor, but neither can I make a new life somewhere.” She slumped a little lower over the table and sighed. “I can’t be a part of a village. I can’t be anyone’s wife, I can’t fall in love, I can’t start a family. I can’t do anything that normal women are supposed to do. I’m stuck in between two impossible lives.”

“That makes two of us,” Cara replied matter-of-factly, not ceasing her sharpening. “Is that why you didn’t kiss me?”

Kahlan honestly wasn’t sure the blonde had noticed. She had made love to many parts of the Mord-Sith’s body, but her lips had seemed off-limits somehow—which was quite frustrating. She had wanted to kiss Cara, badly, but it seemed to be making an entirely different promise than their night together allowed. “Yes,” she admitted. “I wanted it to be different than the…other night. And I think I won’t kiss anyone ever again, not unless I do fall in love due to some cruel twist of fate.”

Cara seemed confused by that and Kahlan couldn’t blame her. Even she barely understood the words that were leaving her. “Love is cruel?” the blonde asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“It is when you lose it,” Kahlan answered softly. “I hope you never fall in love, Cara. It’s a terrible thing to lose.”

Cara’s hand faltered in its work for the smallest moment and Kahlan promptly winced; that was an absolutely horrendous thing to say. “I didn’t mean that,” she said quickly, backpedaling. “What I meant was that I hope you never have to lose anyone that matters to you. Again.”

That brought a slight raise of Cara’s brow. This was not going well, at all, and Kahlan let her frustration with her tongue show with a quick puff of air. “I’m going to stop talking,” she announced. “I’ll prepare a bed for us.”

“You should make two,” Cara said.

Kahlan froze. “Why?” She was beginning to wish her sleep with Cara had never deviated from being harmless and chaste.

“You should know for sure if you can sleep alone,” the blonde answered. “Now is a good time. I can be in the next room if you need me, but far enough apart for you to know.” She didn’t like it, but Kahlan nodded acquiescence regardless. It made sense. “Do you want me to do yours?” Cara asked, tossing the dangerously gleaming daggers to clatter on the table.

“Mm. They haven’t been sharpened since I bought them. Thank you.” Kahlan drew her twin daggers from her boots and flipped the blades in her palms to give them to Cara. As the blonde’s gloved hands closed around the red-leathered hilt, Kahlan glanced from the green gem in the tip up to Cara’s eyes. Her heart immediately skipped a beat, and she swallowed. It was suddenly exceedingly obvious what had set these daggers apart from their peers. In fact, there was no way Cara hadn’t noticed. Truthfully, there was absolutely no excuse for _herself_ not to have noticed.

Kahlan mumbled an entirely unneeded excuse to rise and set about her earlier stated task, and as she set about preparing bedding for the two bare mattresses in separate rooms, she lost herself in the crackling of the fire and the repetitive sound of stone sliding against steel over and over. She used to sharpen her daggers when she was stressed. While she had half a mind to march out and take over from Cara, it was possible the blonde needed the methodic therapy as much or more than she did.

Her task complete, she wandered back out and retook her seat, assuming her former slumped posture as well. She looked for answers to questions she didn’t know in the yellow flames, and she nearly started off of the bench when Cara cleared her throat. “You are bothered,” she said. “In a different way than before.”

“You are observant,” Kahlan replied, speaking to a dark knot in the table before her.

“I am Mord-Sith,” Cara returned, nearly faltering on the words.

“Did you know that I still think of you as such?”

“Would it depress you further to know that I will always think of you as the Mother Confessor?”

“A pointless question,” Kahlan sighed. “Now I know regardless. But no, it doesn’t…worsen things.”

Cara ceased her sharpening and wordlessly placed her daggers before her on the table. “Let me know if you need me, Kahlan.”

With that the blonde took the lamp and stepped into one of the bedrooms behind them, and Kahlan heard a door quietly shut—three times. The last time was followed by the sound of a pack being shoved against the door.

Kahlan was left alone with her thoughts, chin resting on her arms and eyes nearly crossed as she stared at the dagger’s hilt before her. Specifically, the small green gem inset at the tip. The thing teased her with its meaning as it flickered and gleamed in the light of the fireplace. She had admitted missing Cara before she even purchased the daggers in Oringuard, but it somehow bothered her that it hadn’t been a conscious decision to buy such reminders. But Kahlan soon realized there were many things that bothered her.

There were Cara’s whispered admissions while Kahlan was lost in the haze of sleep, which she highly doubted were mere confessions of crimes past. They had to be something even more personal for Cara to be so guarded. There was her strange behavior after their night together, and her cryptic response to Kahlan’s terribly embarrassing offer of a repeat performance which she desperately hoped Cara would forget. There was the way Cara had almost seemed hurt when Kahlan acknowledged she had consciously avoided kissing her.

Wrapped around it all was no small amount of confusion about her own awareness, her own feelings. Laying directly before her face was evidence that her thoughts were doing secret things, hidden things, and she couldn’t trust them to be forthcoming anymore. Or maybe it was her broken heart doing such things in hiding in a futile attempt to mend itself.

The world had seen fit to rob them of everything but each other, and Kahlan had grown to depend on Cara. The blonde was her closest friend, and Kahlan knew it wasn’t simply because she had no others. They had undeniably come to mean much to each other since that day by the Pillars of Creation, and there was no shortage of resulting dangerous questions she could ask.

What if the events of that day and the ones that followed had changed Cara in ways that Kahlan didn’t understand? What if Cara had wanted Kahlan to kiss her? What if she wanted something more? What if she had admitted as much when she was sure Kahlan wouldn’t remember? What if Cara wanted her in other ways, deeper ways, ways that she would never put into words when Kahlan was sitting before her fully conscious?

What if Cara wanted to be broken with her, to heal with her?

She sighed deeply, reminding herself that she couldn’t possibly let herself think such things. The wisps had proven to her that healing was possible, but no matter how normal or happy she could grow to feel with life, there was a part of her that would always be damaged. Kahlan was quite sure she could never love again. That part of her heart was ruined; it would always be empty. She cared deeply for Cara, that was never and would never be up for debate in Kahlan’s thoughts. It was for that reason that she felt she should, just in case she was right, warn her friend to control her feelings as she would have once done on her own. She should warn Cara that she could only take and she would never be able to give.

She rose suddenly, leaving her daggers on the table, and took the few short steps to the blonde’s closed door. “Cara,” she called softly.

Kahlan’s heart immediately started pounding in her chest. What was she going to say? _Is the bed satisfactory? Good. Don’t fall in love with me. Sleep well._

A pack scraped against the floor and the door opened. Cara appeared, her dark and oversized fur cloak wrapped around her leathered shoulders, and from the lamplight flickering inside the room it didn’t appear that she’d been trying to sleep. “Are you alright?” the blonde asked softly.

At the sight of her, Kahlan was stricken with the urge to curl up inside that cloak with her, to talk to her, to tell her of all the things a certain Mord-Sith was making her feel—the uncertainty, the confusion, the regret, the frustration, and a sadness born of impossibility. But Cara was that Mord-Sith, and there was no one else to speak to. There was only her, and as Cara waited patiently for her answer, Kahlan promptly shoved every thought from the past few moments into the most distant corner of her mind. They were, she decided, utterly ridiculous thoughts. “Can I see the map?” she mumbled.

Cara wordlessly knelt and rummaged in her pack for a few moments, then coughed awkwardly and asked for a moment. She closed the door for barely more than a couple heartbeats, then reopened it and shoved the map at Kahlan, the ruined journeybook in her other hand.

“Why do you keep that?” Kahlan asked suddenly, nodding at the scarred leather book. “You said it’s unreadable.”

“It is, but it keeps the parchment safe,” Cara answered evenly, quickly.

It made sense. The thing was, while not thin and delicate, still only paper. “Oh. Sleep well, then,” she offered, turning away.

“Are you sure?” Cara asked behind her. “We can try another night. I don’t want…”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, already stepping back to the table.

“Remember, I’m right here,” Cara instructed. “If you feel like you—”

“I’ll be fine,” Kahlan repeated over her shoulder, far more harshly than she intended.

Yet she didn’t turn around or apologize, and the door closed behind her once again. Kahlan placed the map on the table, set one of her daggers atop the parchment, and then went straight to the other bedroom. She swept away any remaining useless thoughts as she slipped between the blankets and furs; they had important things to do and Kahlan would not let her confusing feelings and fears get in the way.

****

It was a quiet and uneventful morning after a blissfully dreamless night. Cara had a simple breakfast started on the stove when she emerged from her room at sunrise, and Kahlan spent most of her meal trying not to think of certain things, like how married couples cooked each other breakfast in the mornings. Cara was strangely silent. When they had packed up their belongings and were headed for the door, Kahlan threw one last glance behind her at the empty house and decided that normal was awkward and boring. Not only could she not become normal, she didn’t want to.

Cara opened the door and Kahlan nearly bumped into her when she didn’t step through. “Cara?”

The blonde pushed back against her, slammed the door shut, and turned to Kahlan, decidedly irked. “Are we sure this place doesn’t have a back door? Maybe we can fit through the window.”

Kahlan pushed past her, brow furrowing in confusion, and opened the door herself. Just under a dozen people stood in a loose cluster outside the house, their hosts from last night among them. They had likely been talking amongst themselves, but since Cara opened the door every head was turned to Kahlan and they were completely silent.

She stepped out of the door, hearing Cara sigh behind her, and raised her head to address them. “Is there something wrong?”

An older gentlemen, tall and wiry, likely the tiny settlement’s patriarch, stepped forward in turn. “Not yet, but there will be. In two nights the raiders are coming.”

Right to the point, then. “Raiders?” Kahlan prodded. She could sense where this was going, and was suddenly keenly aware of how dangerous and capable she and Cara could appear.

The man’s voice became urgent. “They come every few months and take our grain. Sometimes they take a horse or…Spirits save us, a child as well. You have weapons. You could help us fight them!”

Kahlan didn’t need Cara’s nudge in her back to know what she had to tell these people. “I am truly sorry,” she said to them, “but my friend and I cannot afford to wait two nights to help you. We have an urgent task in the mountains. If you know they’re coming, why do you not hide yourselves?”

“Their leader has made it clear he will burn our homes and our crops if we did so,” the man explained sadly.

“What business do you have in the mountains?” a younger man interjected. “Is there something going on up there?”

Kahlan sincerely hoped the answer to this question wasn’t the one she feared. “Why do you ask?”

“Two other travelers came through here late yesterday afternoon,” he replied. “A young man and woman. They said they were running away together, but instead of heading further south as they intended, I saw them head straight west toward the mountains. Didn’t understand it,” he said, scratching his head. “Still don’t.”

Shock and dread quickly filled her at a sudden realization, and the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up as she turned quickly to Cara. “That was Nicci,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “We have to leave, now.” Cara’s eyes widened and she nodded. “I know it’s unfair,” Kahlan called out to them, “to ask a favor of you when I have just denied you help you desperately need. But…” She produced their coinpurse and opened it. “Is anyone willing to care for our horses until we return? The mountains are no place for them.”

The small crowd stood silent, until Merith whacked her husband Earl across the back. He stumbled forward and gamely held out his hand, and Kahlan placed a few coins in his palm before taking it in her own and offering a warm smile. “Thank you,” she said.

The older man cleared his throat to her side. “They may very well not be here when you return,” he reminded them. “Should the raiders take a fancy to either or both.”

“It’s a chance we’ll have to take. If we can’t stop the woman that you saw yesterday,” Kahlan said, nodding at the young man, “she will come back down from the mountains and destroy your village simply because the buildings are in her path. She is, in truth, an unimaginably powerful sorceress. Raiders will be the least of your concern.”

Her words had the desired effect, and they received no replies or attempts to stop them when they stepped away from the group and set off toward the mountains, the Cave of Rebirth, and Nicci.

****

They had been climbing a steadily increasing slope all morning and most of the afternoon when they finally broke free of the thick pines on the mountainside. There was only the occasional scraggly tree, twisted, gnarly and half-dead peppering the rocky landscape ahead of them. It would have looked rather dire, but the bright sun on the slightest dusting of snow made it beautiful instead. Kahlan turned to Cara, a couple paces behind her, and her breath caught in her throat at the view. Countless leagues stretched out before them, carpeted by trees the colors of autumn. She could see a city in the distance—Isrith, judging by the distance and direction.

“Cara, look,” she said. “It’s the Midlands.” Kahlan squinted, looking down on the vale they had left that morning, and was surprised to see a tall stone tower standing alone farther up the valley. “I didn’t know there was a Mord-Sith temple so close,” she added.

The blonde raised her brow and turned her head, but didn’t seem impressed. “Aren’t you wondering how Nicci found out where the Heart is?”

“Well, Rahl said she was resourceful, and he’s right,” Kahlan replied. “She must have found a way.” Cara muttered something as she looked away, and Kahlan didn’t like the look on her face. “What is it?”

She turned and faced Kahlan. “I think I was that way,” she said, her jaw visibly tightening.

“Cara? What do you mean?” Kahlan asked gently.

“It happened on the way back from D’Hara, just outside of Isrith. I thought it was a dream. I woke up in the middle of the night and I couldn’t move, not even to open my eyes, and I heard someone rummaging in my pack. It could have been Nicci.”

“A wizard’s web,” Kahlan offered gravely. “So you couldn’t move, then a sleeping spell to ensure you didn’t know for sure.”

“I should have known. I don’t dream; I should have known.”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” Kahlan reminded her. “You’re just as vulnerable to magic as everyone else. What I can’t figure out is why she let us live.”

“Us?”

Now it was Kahlan’s jaws that clenched. “You’re not the only one who could’ve met Nicci,” she admitted. “When I was alone on the way back to Isrith, two travelers came across me. They said their names were Gwen and Cale. I trusted them, and ate with them, and Cara, I don’t remember everything I told them. I was…in a bad way. I think Gwen was Nicci’s disguise. What better way to gain people’s trust than traveling with a confessed, posing as runaway lovers?” Kahlan tightened her fist at her side. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize Cale as confessed. It was so obvious.”

“If you were in a state anywhere close to the one you were in when you found me, nobody could blame you,” Cara offered. “But you’re right; why not just kill you when she found out what she could, then kill me and take the map? Subterfuge doesn’t make any sense for someone of her power.”

“Maybe it’s arrogance and overconfidence. She did that have in common with Darken Rahl,” Kahlan mused. “Or maybe she doesn’t want to risk exposing herself before she’s ready to take the throne of D’Hara.”

Cara sighed. “Well, our advantages are gone. She’s half a day ahead and she knows we’re coming.”

“We’ll just have to be careful,” Kahlan said grimly. “If she decides to kill us after all, all she’d have to do is wait in hiding.”

****

Cara’s introduction to snow was nothing if not dramatic. Kahlan truly felt sorry for her; a violent and freezing snowstorm was not the best introduction to the weather she had once seemed truly excited to see. They had continued climbing the rest of the day and passed the cusp of the lower ridges, and were currently looking somewhat frantically for a place to hide from the bitter wind now that the sun was nearly down. Their mountainside path was interrupted with outcroppings and indentations alike in the rock wall to their side, and thankfully it wasn’t long before they found a shallow crevice to shelter in.

It was a tight fit, but they tossed their packs inside and wormed their way in to sit down hunched together. They were surrounded on three sides by cold rock; the wind howled and thick snow flew by two paces in front of them, but their spot remained dry and Kahlan could now hear herself speak. Her breath puffed in vapor in front of her, and she turned her head to see the Mord-Sith’s head bowed and her eyes closed.

“Snow is actually very beautiful,” Kahlan said wryly. “I swear it.”

“It’s also very cold,” Cara retorted, not budging an eyelid.

“I told you your leather would be cold,” Kahlan sighed. The thick fur cloaks they were both wearing went a long way toward keeping out the worst, but she knew Cara was still having a hard time. “Though cloth or fur-lined leather is ideal. I would know; I grew up in Aydindril, remember? It snows daily for weeks at a time during winter.”

When the blonde just grunted, Kahlan turned to face her. “Come here, Cara,” she said, pulling on both their cloaks. After a little shifting and maneuvering, their furs were enveloping them both as one, and Cara was pressed significantly closer. She tried to hide a smile as the blonde edged nearly into her lap, but Cara glanced and caught it.

“You’re warm,” Cara said gruffly.

Kahlan didn’t reply; instead she reached an arm behind Cara’s back to vigorously rub her shoulder. The Mord-Sith took a deep breath, seemingly fascinated with the steam that resulted from her following sigh.

****

When she woke to Cara’s gentle prodding her joints were frozen stiff, she couldn’t feel her ears or nose, and the sun was far too bright. Kahlan stood and stretched, wincing at the near-pain of such movement. They emerged from their own personal crevasse and into the blinding whiteness and deafening silence of the morning after the storm. Kahlan turned to Cara, watching the blonde’s face intently. “See? Beautiful,” she offered.

From their vantage point halfway up the mountainside most of their vision was taken up by the next peak over, but there was quite a view deeper into the range to the west. Drifts of fresh snow glittered over everything, the exception being the rare bit of exposed rock face, and the sky was a clear and bright blue. Nonetheless, while night wisps could amaze Cara, this view could not.

“We should go,” Cara said curtly. “Nicci’s not stopping to admire the view.”

Properly chastised, Kahlan nodded and shouldered her pack. The snow wasn’t deep enough to make walking difficult, and they were soon getting passably warm from the combination of exercise, sunlight, and lack of wind. Not long passed before Cara revealed that she had been appreciating a different kind of view from her position a pace behind Kahlan.

“Did you know your hair shimmers red?” Cara asked.

Kahlan stopped in her tracks and turned sharply. “It does what?”

Cara shrugged. “In sunlight it looks like it shimmers almost red sometimes. Like right now. I didn’t notice it until recently.” With that she pushed past Kahlan. The first thing she did when Cara was two paces in front of her was reach for a length of hair over her shoulder; it didn’t look red to her at all. Yet another thing to…bother her. No one had ever told her that before.

She was granted a reprieve when Cara called to her over her shoulder. Kahlan followed her gaze to the distinctly body-shaped mass of snow seated against the steep mountainside. It might have gone unnoticed if not for the tip of a boot protruding from the drift a pace from the rock wall.

“Cale,” Kahlan murmured. “It’s Cale.”

“It’s ‘trap’,” Cara countered, immediately stepping back to survey their surroundings. Kahlan knelt beside the shape and cleared the snow away from the blue face of the frozen figure. It wasn’t Cale after all, but Kahlan’s initial relief gave way to a more disturbing set of realizations. It was likely the young man she was worried about had met a similar fate.

“There’s probably a trail of Nicci’s dead confessed all the way across the Midlands,” Kahlan sighed. “If she uses a different one for every town. Looks like he began to annoy her, or maybe she didn’t want to feed him anymore. So she told him to stay, and he did.”

“He looks happy,” Cara said. “Let’s go.”

It was true, but it wasn’t a comfort. It was her magic that was doing this. Kahlan stood and shook her head to clear it. She would not allow herself to feel guilt for Nicci’s actions; she’d been down that path.

****

The two days that followed were filled with the sound of boots crunching on snow, gusts of icy wind tearing at their furs, and not much conversation. It hadn’t taken them long to realize that they had no real way of stopping Nicci now that she was ahead of them. Assuming she had somehow made a copy of Cara’s map, she would simply arrive before them. Even if they somehow caught up to her, their chance of catching such a powerful sorceress unawares was next to nothing. Cara rued leaving her bow behind with Snow, her horse, in their rush to leave the valley settlement, for now the only way they had of actually killing Nicci was to get close enough to throw or thrust with a dagger.

In short, their task was quite impossible. But they couldn’t very well give up and turn around, so they trudged onward over the snowy peaks, likely to failure and death. It was blind luck that favored them that evening, as if in apology, with a dry cave carved into the mountainside between two tall and soaring peaks. A steep open canyon fell to darkness mere paces from the entrance, and though the weather was as calm as it had been the past two days, the quiet and distant howl of wind seemed to rise up from the chasm.

When she and Cara ventured deeper into the cave, they made a find that had Kahlan curious and Cara suspicious. Nearly out of reach of daylight there was a ring of stones on the cave floor with firewood scattered nearby. The logs and branches had nearly rotted with old age, which eased Cara’s wariness somewhat. After deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, they built a small fire, careful to conserve what little fuel they had, and the resulting light revealed that there was no need to explore the rest of the cave for dangers. It ended with the roomy cavern they were situated on the side of. They warmed dried and frozen meat over the fire, and Kahlan quickly remembered just how much she missed any sort of hot meal.

A sudden gust of wind howled by the now-dark mouth of the cave, and a squinted glance from her seat by the fire revealed that snow had begun falling outside. “Just in time,” Kahlan observed. “At least we won’t be caught outside in that.”

Cara attempted a smirk. “If we make it out of here and Snow is still with that farmer, I’m changing his name back to Horse.”

That brought a rueful smile to Kahlan’s face; it might have been the first in days. “Do you think we will? Make it out of here?”

Cara chewed pensively for a moment, as if giving the matter a little more thought could change her mind. “Doubtful,” she replied. “We have what, another day?”

“We’ll get to the spot marked on the map at midday,” Kahlan confirmed. “If we’re still alive.”

“Such a terrible plan,” Cara sighed.

“We don’t really have one.”

“Sure we do. We hope Nicci fell off that cliff,” the blonde replied, nodding toward the cave entrance.

“That’s not really a plan, Cara,” she pointed out.

“It’s all we’ve got. Besides, it reminds me of old times. Richard’s plans were always terrible.”

Kahlan smiled. “But they always worked.”

“I suppose they did. And who knows; maybe we’ll get lucky and Nicci won’t fall off a mountain until after she’s retrieved Alric's Heart.”

“I think we could use a little luck,” Kahlan sighed. “Maybe an opportunity will present itself.”

She found it didn’t really bother her that they were marching to their doom, and Cara didn’t seem to care either. Facing death did bring back a certain feeling of nostalgia; they used to do it daily, together, near the end of the Keeper’s war. Kahlan’s guilt was absolved and her mourning and torture were over, but her life was still empty and she had no future to speak of. This purpose and the smallest chance they had of succeeding with it were worthy of their efforts. She looked to the Mord-Sith at her side and couldn’t help but wish that Cara had more respect for her own life than Kahlan did for hers.

The blonde caught her staring and raised her brow, and Kahlan offered a small smile. “You seem better again, Cara.”

It was true; the Mord-Sith had been withdrawn over the past few days, as was her custom when something was bothering her. As near as Kahlan could figure it had started when they came across the valley settlement, but she couldn’t figure an exact cause.

Cara took a swig of water before answering. “I’ve grown to accept something.”

“Am I allowed to know what?” Kahlan asked gently.

“No. You have enough on your mind.”

An ear-splitting shriek, sudden and drawn-out, broke the contemplative silence that followed, and Cara joined Kahlan in bounding up with daggers at the ready. They advanced slowly toward the cave entrance and peered out at the blizzard throwing a white wall of snow sideways a mere pace away. A low and steady howl built this time, far longer than any human or animal could muster, before fluctuating into the same obscenely loud and high-pitched shrill.

Kahlan exchanged an eye roll with the Mord-Sith beside her and sheathed her daggers. “The Shrieking Pass,” she shouted. “Lovely.”

Back at the fire, they collapsed heavily side by side. Cara grimaced as they weathered out the third shriek. “I knew it was too good to be true,” she sighed, gesturing at the cave around them.

“Wind must be coming up from the canyon,” Kahlan mused. “At least we’re dry and warm, and maybe it’ll stop before morning.”

“I’d hoped to get a good night’s sleep before dying,” Cara retorted. Despite her words, she was reaching into her pack for her bedding and soon had it rolled out next to the fire. Kahlan followed suit with her own bedroll, letting it overlap Cara’s.

“Is there anything else you wish?” Kahlan asked, settling in to lay close beside the reclined Mord-Sith. “Something you want before you die.”

It was very much a lead-in for another question; Kahlan’s attempts at controlling her thoughts had been futile as of late and there was one thing that was bothering her above all others. It was likely not even important—more a matter of symbolism than anything else, but Kahlan desperately wanted to know.

“I don’t know,” Cara mumbled. “What kind of question is that? What do you mean?”

They were both staring at the flickering firelight on the rock ceiling of the cave, and Kahlan hesitated before saying the words. “Do you wish that I’d kissed you?”

It was all she could manage; a rather indirect and ambiguous way of asking if Cara had feelings for her beyond friendship. If their night together had meant more to Cara than she initially assumed. Kahlan resisted the urge to turn and look at the blonde when she didn’t answer immediately.

“You told me that you can’t kiss anyone you don’t love,” Cara stated. “And then you told me that you can’t love. I believed you when you told me those things, and I haven’t asked you to do either.” She hesitated before adding, “Love isn’t for people like us.”

Kahlan blinked, saved from having to reply by an exceptionally loud shriek of wind outside. There was her answer; truthfully, she thought she’d been hoping for it, so why did she feel disappointed? “Well. I don’t have to love you to keep you warm,” she said, her voice carefully measured.

The previous night, Cara had finally accepted that Kahlan’s larger and warmer body fit around her own quite well when they were curled up together in their nest of bedding. Kahlan listened to the Mord-Sith sigh in seeming resignation before turning onto her side. She turned as well, pressing her front close to the blonde’s back before reaching an arm over her middle. Then Kahlan made her own desperate wish. She wished for something that felt impossible; that maybe, years from now, she would be healed enough to love after all.

They had to get through tomorrow first.


	7. Chapter 7

After turning a sharp corner around a massive granite outcrop, they were met with something rather unexpected on the snow-covered face of the next mountain over. Cara stopped in her tracks. “That must be it.”

They had arrived at the spot marked on the map with the sun high in the cloudless sky, just as she predicted the night before. Kahlan raised her brow and nodded in agreement; there was little doubt. The wide mouth of a massive cavern stood out in sharp contrast against the white mountainside around it. It was strangely shaped; the lines and corners of the cave’s mouth were clean-cut and the rock was dark. It almost looked…

“Placed there,” she finished aloud. “Cara, it looks like it was placed there. It looks…unnatural.”

“No magic that powerful exists,” the Mord-Sith countered. “To gouge a hole that size in the side of a mountain? There’s no way. Not even Nicci’s Han could do that.”

“If the Heart was hidden a thousand years ago, who’s to say what existed back then?” Kahlan returned.

“I don’t see a path,” Cara sighed. “Don’t tell me we have to climb down and back up. That looks steep.”

Kahlan squinted and swept her gaze carefully across the mountain, eventually spotting a thin trail. “No, I see one,” she said, pointing. “On the left. It curves down, see?”

“Mm. I don’t see Nicci, either,” Cara said. “Maybe we did get lucky.”

“Or she could be in the cave, retrieving it as we speak,” Kahlan replied, shifting the pack on her shoulders. “We should go.”

Despite her words, it was strangely easy for Kahlan to imagine that they had nothing to be worried about; they still hadn’t seen any definitive indication of Nicci’s presence in the mountains. Maybe the young man, or Kahlan, had been mistaken. Maybe Nicci wasn’t here at all.

****

Kahlan stamped her feet to break the snow free of her boots as they strode together into the wide mouth of the mammoth cavern. The sound echoed off the black rock around them, and Cara rolled her eyes as she tightened her cloak around her. “Kahlan, if she’s here…”

“If she was here, she would have the Heart by now,” Kahlan countered. “I think we would…know, somehow.”

Cara grimaced at her shaky logic while Kahlan turned away to examine the cave. It was one massive room, but near the back, where the stone grew strangely flat, she saw what resembled a doorway. On closer inspection it turned out to be just that; symbols and graces, both strange and familiar, were carved into the rock around the narrow entrance of a tunnel to darkness. “We’ll need the torch,” Cara observed, dropping her pack to the ground.

“Yes,” a voice called out loudly behind them. “Kahlan will. But you won’t.”

They whirled as one, pulling daggers free, to see Nicci in her black robes standing tall mere paces away. She arched her brow as Cara took a menacing step forward. One hand came free from behind Nicci’s back, a quick word left her throat, and Cara froze, the air around her suddenly shimmering with the wizard’s web holding her in place. Kahlan stopped herself, keenly aware that they were both at Nicci’s mercy. Her dagger was not quicker than Nicci’s thoughts.

“You look surprised, Mother Confessor,” the sorceress said coolly, replacing her hands behind her back. “I must say I’m actually quite surprised you made it after all, considering the state you were in last I saw you.”

“Don’t hurt her,” Kahlan growled. She knew the words sounded foolish—she was in no position to make threats or carry through with them—but they left her throat regardless.

“I have no interest in hurting her,” Nicci told her. “In fact, this former Mord-Sith is of no consequence to me whatsoever. Beyond whatever meaning she has to you, that is.”

Kahlan kept her face schooled in neutrality. “What do you mean?”

“I have a task for you,” Nicci began, stepping closer. “This doorway was spelled with both invisibility and a magical barrier. Obviously I’ve broken the invisibility spell, but no one with any Han of any amount may pass through. I need you to retrieve the Heart for me, or I will hurt Cara quite badly. Then, I will confess you again, and you will hurt her as well. Then, I will order—”

“I understand,” Kahlan interrupted calmly. “But you will confess me, or us, once I do as you ask.” She didn’t need to ask why Nicci wasn’t confessing her already; the sorceress wanted Kahlan keenly aware of what she was doing. That her last action of free will would be to secure Nicci’s absolute power. Her arrogance gave Kahlan the slimmest of chances, and more importantly, time.

Nicci smiled, the expression looking strange on her face. “Will you be quicker if I tell you I might let you free?” She canted her head. “But no…I suppose you’d know if I was lying, wouldn’t you, Mother Confessor?”

Kahlan hesitated, suddenly unsure. She didn’t detect sarcasm, and it occurred to her that Nicci might not know she had lost her power. Unfortunately, that hardly presented her with a usable advantage. She raised her head in defiance. “The Heart for our freedom, then.”

Nicci gave a curt nod in acceptance, but Kahlan didn’t need her power to know that they wouldn’t be leaving this cave with their bodies and free will intact. She knew Cara, in her frozen state, could still hear and see, and as she stepped to face the Mord-Sith, standing stock still as she was, Kahlan found herself fighting back a powerful urge. She wanted to reach to her stilled face, to reassure her with an intimate touch of any fashion, but she wouldn’t allow Nicci the pleasure of seeing just how much control she had over her through Cara. She settled for a brief hand to the blonde’s shoulder before kneeling to the pack at her side. The makeshift torch was already jutting out of the knapsack, and she raised herself up to extend the torch at arm’s length. “Do you mind?” she asked coolly.

Nicci smirked and motioned with her fingers, and the end of her torch burst into flames. “There are runes on either side of the doorway,” the sorceress told her. “The ones at waist height. They are inscriptions of taking. Place your palms on them and repeat the words I tell you, and the runes will take your Confessor power from you and destroy it. They will finished what I started, and then you will pass through.”

Kahlan sighed; her one potential surprise was about to be ruined. Not that she expected _lack_ of magic to be an advantage. “That won’t be necessary,” she replied, stepping toward the tunnel meaningfully.

“Kahlan,” Nicci warned. “That’s going to hurt.”

She managed to derive a small amount of pleasure from Nicci’s seeming first-hand knowledge of the pain she thought Kahlan would experience. But she passed uneventfully through the narrow doorway and into the mouth of the tunnel, feeling only a slight pressure on her skin as the magic crowded around her. “That’s why you wanted me,” Kahlan said, turning back to face her. “You didn’t want to use Cara because you wanted to see and experience the absolute loss of my magic.”

Nicci’s expression remained unchanged, but she blinked rapidly enough to give away her surprise and confusion.

“I'm afraid one of your former sisters took that honor from you many weeks ago.” Kahlan gave a mirthless smile and moved to turn away.

“Kahlan,” Nicci called out. “Don’t think you can use the Heart yourself. I burned the only copy of instructions in existence. Bring it to me, only I know what to do with it!”

She sighed as she set off down the dark and freezing tunnel, torch held before her. Maybe she could still think of something. The passage stayed straight and level and the walls around her were smooth and dark; yet more evidence that this had all been deliberately placed here for one purpose. Kahlan shuddered to the think of the raw magic required to exert such force on stone and rock. She tried _not_ to think of the choice she would face when she was standing, with Alric’s heart in her possession, with only the spelled doorway between herself and Nicci. Kahlan would have to choose between Cara’s life and Nicci’s power, and her thoughts were swaying decidedly toward the former. She shook her head to clear it; Cara would hardly want her to give in to Nicci. She shouldn’t even be thinking about it. Yet, she felt that if she had to watch Cara die the sight would kill her as well. Her only hope was coming across something unforeseen by Nicci that she could use.

She walked for what seemed like far too long, heading deeper and deeper into the mountain. The air around her was growing warmer, and while it could have been her eyes adjusting to the relative darkness, there seemed to be a barely visible light growing in the tunnel.

It wasn’t long before her suspicions were confirmed. She could see a faint source of red light ahead, quickly growing larger as she increased her pace. It became a doorway, and soon she was stepping through it into a warm and small room, very much purposefully shaped. This was not a natural cave. Her skin tingled; the entrance was protected with the same magic as the first. The circular chamber wasn’t more than ten paces across, but what Kahlan couldn’t look away from was the massive black rock jutting from the floor in the center. The thing was a part of the mountain itself; two paces across and just over waist high. There was no retrieving it, that much was certain. It seemed to have grown from the stone around it. The top of the rock was shorn clean and level to form a table of sorts, and she could see inscriptions carved in the flat surface that were similar to the ones outside around the door. It was a small comfort that her choice had been removed from her, but now she had to figure out a way to use all of this to save Cara.

She looked up to see dim red light, seemingly coming from nowhere, revealing countless markings on the walls. Kahlan stepped into the chamber and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. There was a low and deep pulsing in the air, less a sound and more a feeling, and the small room brightened suddenly, as if aware of her presence, to wash the stone in the eerie light. She nearly called out to inquire of someone’s presence, but knew the places was just flooded with powerful and ancient magic. From the dust on the walls, no one had been here in the last thousand years. Darken Rahl had said its existence was a well-kept secret and, as relatively simple as it was to find, he must have been right.

Her brow furrowed as she inspected the walls closer. The markings were writing, not inscriptions or runes. Ancient D’Haran; the same language on the map, the same language she thought she would never have a use for. She cast her gaze about the room, her eyes skimming the letters and words, and it didn’t take her long to realize that there were two parts: a history, a story of sorts, and instructions. It seemed that Nicci was attempting a bluff of her own. Not only was the Heart of Alric Rahl entirely irretrievable, but as such it was likely her own instructions had never existed.

Kahlan stepped around the room, careful not to touch the stone, searching for the starting point of the text. She found the beginning over the chamber’s entrance and began to read.

What she found sent chills down her spine of a different sort. This undid everything she thought she knew about what had happened nearly one thousand years ago. Everything she thought she knew about D’Hara. This place, this story, was the legacy of Alric Rahl. He built it not in case the Rahl bloodline was ever ended; he intended to restart it from the beginning.

His lineage, from his son onward, was cursed by the greatest living Wizard—a sentence for the crime of keeping his country, D’Hara, safe from a threat from within. Caught in the crossfire of Alric’s short and bloody civil war was the Wizard’s only daughter. So torn by grief, the Wizard placed his curse on Alric’s last and only son in retribution before leaving the castle to wander into the middle of D’Hara. There he spoke the forbidden words, dangerous, ancient, and powerful, that violently changed the lands of D’Hara from a lush land of forest and field into the wastes Kahlan knew they still were. The desert Plains of Azrith. Such words destroyed the Wizard, and Alric wrote of seeing the skies turn red and black, fire raining from the heavens as far as his eyes could see.

With his lands destroyed and cursed, just like his legacy, Alric’s plan was to find one worthy and able of usurping his son before his power grew too great—for such was the Wizard’s curse on his bloodline. Twin serpents of great power and great greed. Every Rahl son would be granted both the moment they accepted the bond, and the latter ensured they would never have enough of the former.

The impossible choice was not lost on Alric. To break the curse, he would have to kill his own son and restart his bloodline. For the Wizard’s last words to Alric were a promise—that the curse on his lands would be lifted only if D’Hara would renounce the ways of their past. If the nation ever took a leader with true goodness in their heart, one that embraced peace, one that knew true justice, one that wasn’t devoid of love, the deserts would bloom green once more.

Alric hoped to be able to find one worthy individual, bring them here, and wrench the bond from his son to his surrogate without being forced to kill him. Without the bond, the curse would lift from his son. He hoped to restart the Rahl line with his own untainted blood, and was forced to turn to magic since he couldn’t father another son. He spoke of hope, of building a new capital of D’Hara, to be called the People’s Palace, and ushering in a new era of recovery for his lands. But he allowed for the possibility that his son would not permit him to live so long, and so left such words of instruction to allow one to take such power after his death.

Kahlan stared at the walls numbly as she tried to process everything she had just read. The implications were staggering; that D’Hara had once been a land of forests, rivers, and fields, not unlike the Midlands, accounted for much. She thought back to the maps she had seen during her lessons. The nations marked were not always vast expanses of sand and rock. They had been destroyed by vengeance; people punished for the actions of their leader. It wasn’t right.

Kahlan ran a slow hand through her hair. There was a single thought in her mind, and she expanded on it for lack of any other. She glanced at the tunnel, toward Nicci, toward Cara. If she could take the bond, Cara would be Mord-Sith once more. She only had to make the sorceress break the wizard’s web somehow and Cara would be the perfect counter to Nicci’s magic.

It was the only choice she had, and she made it quickly. Her eyes read over the rest of the text, her lips forming the words silently to make sure she didn’t miss anything. It was quite simple, and Kahlan stepped up to the black rock, placing a single palm on the side of it. It was warm to the touch. The thrumming sound increased, growing more intense under her feet to resemble the slow throbbing pulse of a heartbeat. Kahlan looked down to see that the lines of a massive grace drawn around the rock had begun glowing red since her touch.

There were two large runes on the flat top of the rock itself, intricate circles and shapes with small and indecipherable lettering. Kahlan took a deep breath and placed her palms in the middle of the inscriptions of giving. She bowed her head and closed her eyes. It was her moment of choice; she had only to say the words.

In the end, it was for Cara. Kahlan looked up, her eyes found the exact words of the spell, and she formed them out loud with a careful tongue. She was not at all prepared for the pain.

The rock under her palms glowed white hot and searing agony shot up her arms. Kahlan couldn’t have moved her hands if she tried, and she clenched her jaw so tight it hurt as well. She allowed herself a deep groan as the assault continued; the deep pulsing sound grew loud in her ears as she squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to pass out. She was no Mord-Sith. The pain continued up her arms and spread throughout her body, and Kahlan shook from it. She felt like she was being rearranged on the inside, her flesh and blood rebuilt, and as she sucked a deep breath, she couldn’t help the desperate shout that followed.

Just after excruciating agony exploded in Kahlan’s head, everything stopped. The pain left her shuddering, the room went dark save the flickering torchlight below her, and the thrumming sound ceased completely. Kahlan only heard her own quickened breathing echoing in the silent chamber. She had a splitting headache, her palms still hurt, and she found herself checking her skin in various places with the back of her hand, just to make sure she was still intact and herself.

She had dropped the torch just before placing her palms on the runes and found it against the side of the chamber. Kahlan picked it up, painfully, seeing that her palms were badly burned in the torchlight, bloody and scarred. Such was necessary for the transference of such power, she supposed. Without thought, words suddenly left her mouth, in a language she had never before spoken, and her skin began to tingle and heal before her eyes. Kahlan watched in awe as the scars disappeared and the pain left her skin. She turned her hand in front of her, staring at it in wonder; it was very much back to normal.

She had magic. Kahlan swallowed hard—she knew she was taking the bond, the blood of Alric Rahl, but it never occurred to her that she would have his Han, his magic, as well.

If only she could get the headache to stop. Kahlan stood with a groan, raising the torch. The chamber remained still, dark and silent, and the massive block of stone in its center appeared like any other. The purpose of this place was complete.

She had to get back to Cara, but she couldn’t go empty-handed. Kneeling near the doorway to the chamber, she found a smooth stone that fit in the palm of her hand. In asking her to retrieve such a massive thing, it was obvious Nicci had no idea what the Heart looked like; Kahlan would have to rely on a bluff after all.

She nearly forgot about the spelled entrance, but a thoughtless and instinctual wave of her hand dissipated the magical barrier with a hiss and a crackle. Kahlan left the heart of the mountain, nearly breaking into a run through the tunnel with the torch held before her. She had no idea if Nicci had heard her single shout, but she couldn’t discount it. The sorceress wouldn’t hurt Cara until she knew what had happened; or so Kahlan hoped.

Nicci was waiting for her at the entrance. Kahlan swallowed before dropping the torch, extending the small stone meaningfully before her, and discreetly opening the barrier with her free hand. It disappeared with a crackling sound, and Kahlan quickly explained as she stepped out of the tunnel and into the cavern. “It opens for this,” she said, nodding at the rock in her hand.

Nicci nodded curtly in return. “Give it to me.”

“Release Cara,” Kahlan said firmly, moving to stand by the blonde.

“Don’t play with me,” Nicci hissed. “Give it to me!”

Kahlan’s eyes darted toward the mouth of the cave as a hasty and risky plan formed in her mind. It was definitely within throwing distance, and she quickly decided that Nicci would be more interested in saving the supposed Heart than immediate punishment. Her arm went back, Nicci’s eyes flew wide, and Kahlan threw the stone as hard as she could.

“No!” Nicci shouted, turning to watch the stone fly out of the cavern entrance. “You fool!”

Kahlan acted quickly, focusing her eyes on Cara and her thoughts on the wizard’s web around her. Just as before, her hand moved, words left her, and Cara stepped forward, freed. The glance she immediately threw to Kahlan told her that Cara knew exactly what she had done, for there was no small amount of awe in her eyes.

Nicci turned back a heartbeat later, her palm raised and her face a mask of murderous rage. Lightning crackled from her fingertips and arced toward them both. Cara’s palm shot up as well, and Kahlan saw utter fear flash in Nicci’s eyes at the motion. She had noticed too late that Cara was free; the blast of lightning rebounded against the invisible wall of the Mord-Sith’s magic and arced back to strike Nicci in the chest. The sorceress was thrown onto her back by the impact, and Kahlan placed an instinctive wizard’s web around her, rendering her motionless.

She turned to Cara then, who was staring at her with no small amount of amazement. “Kahlan,” she said in awe. “You took the…”

“Yes,” Kahlan answered quietly. “For you.” She embraced Cara then, pulling her close and squeezing her, and after their hearts and breath both had time to calm, she tried to swallow a sudden lump in her throat. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispered in her ear.

“I felt it happen,” Cara said, pushing her away to hold her at arm’s length. “Before I saw you. I felt the bond, and I knew Nicci was still here. I knew it was you. Kahlan…” Apparently running out of words, the blonde did something that, even after all this time, she’d never done. She hugged Kahlan, not to give comfort, not out of need of warmth, but out of relief.

Kahlan rested her chin on the Mord-Sith’s shoulder and closed her eyes. In taking the bond, she had taken up no small amount of responsibility as well. Now that Cara was safe, the implications of what she had done were catching up to her. But Kahlan Amnell was never one to run from duty, and she made her decision quickly in Cara’s arms. If she could become the Lady Rahl, as Cara had once suggested, maybe the curse would lift from the lands as well. Maybe the desert Plains of Azrith would bloom under her rule, and D’Harans could once again prosper outside the People’s Palace.

“We have a future now, Cara,” Kahlan told her quietly, running a hand up her leathered back. “If you want it. I have so much to tell you.”

Cara immediately pulled away, searching her eyes. “What do you mean?” she breathed.

“I’m going to lead D’Hara,” Kahlan said simply. “And I want you with me.”

Cara’s jaw tightened. “We should take care of her first,” she said, nodding toward Nicci’s still form.

When Kahlan turned to look at the prone sorceress, helpless on the cavern floor, she let her instincts take over. This was the woman who was responsible for everything that had happened to them. Had she not confessed Kahlan for her twisted scheme, Richard would still be alive. If she hadn’t killed Richard, the last two Sisters of the Dark wouldn’t have caught them unawares. Zedd would still be alive, Kahlan would still be a Confessor, and Cara would never have lost her own power.

She growled and extended her hand, whipping it back toward the flat wall beside them. Nicci flew through the air, lifted by an unseen force, to land hard on the stone wall, her back pinned against the rock and her arms held to her sides. Kahlan lifted the wizard’s web and Nicci promptly began breathing heavily, straining to break free of Kahlan’s will. Whatever this spell was, Kahlan could feel the pressure of Nicci’s movement as if she were trying to hold a captured mouse in her hand.

“Are you going to murder me, Mother Confessor?” Nicci spat. Her torso was badly wounded, and Kahlan knew she would die on her own if she didn’t hurry.

“Where is your Dacra?” Kahlan inquired icily. “I’ll take back what you stole from me, then we’ll see about your life.”

Nicci laughed. “I stopped carrying it. I have no need of such a thing.”

Cara wordlessly stepped forward and searched Nicci’s robes, but shook her head after a moment. “She doesn’t have one.”

She had already mourned the loss of her magic; she had no interest in mourning the loss of its potential regain. “Then your life is mine,” Kahlan said quietly. Cara crossed her arms, and her expression said she was genuinely interested in how Kahlan was going to end Nicci. She nearly looked disappointed when Kahlan reached for a dagger, but then her eyes showed understanding.

“Here, I don’t know which one it was,” the blonde said, offering both of hers.

Kahlan nodded her thanks and sheathed her own, then picked her old dagger with the small notch on the hilt. It was the one she’d seen in vivid detail, plunging into Richard’s chest, in so many of her dreams.

Nicci stared at her defiantly even as Kahlan closed the distance between them with purpose. Without pause, Kahlan bared her teeth and forcefully drove the dagger into Nicci’s chest, hilt deep, in the same place she had in Richard. The sorceress cried out and Kahlan smiled.

“Does that hurt, Nicci?” Kahlan asked softly, her mouth a breath away from her ear. “You’re dying. Dying is supposed to hurt.”

Kahlan stepped back, pulling the dagger free, and watched in grim fascination as steaming blood seeped from the wound to wet her black dress. Nicci actually looked confused, lost, as if she had somehow expected this moment couldn’t actually come. Not to her; not to someone of her power. Kahlan loved seeing it in her expression. This was justice and vengeance together, and she took a deep breath of satisfaction.

Nicci finally expired, her head and arms hanging loose, and Kahlan released the spell. The sorceress fell to the ground in a lifeless heap, and Cara exchanged a glance with Kahlan. “You know, I have the Breath of Life now. You could do it again if you want,” the blonde offered.

Kahlan stared at her, blinking, and shook her head as an entirely different smile grew on her face. “No, once is enough,” she replied. The darkness in her, the part of her that wanted to watch Nicci die, was satisfied and withdrew from her with Cara’s words. It was the first time she’d encountered it since the wisps had told her it would never truly go away. Maybe if she always had Cara around she wouldn’t need to worry too much.

Cara flashed her a smirk. “What now?”

Kahlan walked to the mouth of cavern, stopping with a deep sigh at the edge to look out at the mountains beyond. “We only have a week until the armies of the Midlands are gathered. We won’t make it. It would take just under a month to reach the People’s Palace on horseback, and more than that to prepare for a war. Unless we can think of something, we’ll be too late.”

“We don’t have to travel by horseback,” Cara ventured, arriving at her side. “The Mord-Sith temples across the Midlands are all tied to the People’s Palace. Now that you have Rahl magic, we can use them to travel instantly.”

Kahlan’s brow raised. She’d forgotten about that; Darken Rahl had only used such magic once that she could remember. Richard’s sword had nearly ended him before he disappeared in a flash of blue flames. “So we head for that temple up the valley,” Kahlan offered.

“Mm. We could also speed things up if I retrieve our horses when we’re close enough to the settlement for me to bring them to you. Then we could ride straight to the temple without a detour; it could save up to a day. But I will have to…fly.”

“Cara?”

“The Lord Rahl can command Mord-Sith to turn into crows,” Cara reminded her. “Remember the night the boxes of Orden were destroyed and the Veil was torn in the first place? But I don’t like it. Changing feels strange.”

Kahlan frowned and stared at her, and Cara took a step back. “Kahlan, don’t—”

Three short words left Kahlan and a column of thick smoke appeared in front of her. When it cleared, a shiny black crow was standing on the cave floor. It squawked up at her and ruffled its feathers, seeming very upset with her. Kahlan stifled a smile, but took a step back when the bird loudly took flight in front of her. After a short and tight circle around the ceiling of the cavern, the crow dropped back to the floor and Cara walked out of a second puff of black smoke, looking decidedly irked. “You really need to work on controlling your magic,” the blonde snapped. “I always feel like I’m going to be finding feathers in my hair for days.”

Kahlan bit her lip. “I’m sorry. Things just happen when I think them. I don’t understand it, Cara. I don’t have any training whatsoever. I shouldn’t be able to do any of this.” Her brow furrowed as she realized something else. “And my headache is gone.”

Cara nodded her forgiveness curtly. “Certain powerful wizards of old were able to use their Han by instinct, driven by need and emotion. Apparently Alric Rahl was one of them.”

Kahlan raised her brow. “Cara, did Nicci teach you history while I was gone?”

“No, Berdine did. While we were looking for the map,” Cara replied. “She’s quite full of such…interesting facts.”

Kahlan shook her head in amazement. “This morning, we didn’t have a hope in the world,” she said quietly. “And now we’re making plans.”

****

She carefully placed her palms on the leather over Cara’s back, focusing her thoughts, but her concentration shattered when the blonde pulled away. “Kahlan, are you sure won’t set me on fire?” Cara asked worriedly.

They were on their way back across the mountains, and Cara had supposedly worked up enough courage to let Kahlan spell her leathers for warmth. It hadn’t taken them long to figure out that Nicci must have used something of the sort; she had no furs or warm clothes to speak of and had seemed quite comfortable.

“I did mine just fine,” Kahlan huffed. “Hold still.”

Cara glowered at her over her shoulder but stood straight, and gentle warmth left Kahlan’s palms to seep into the leather beneath them. There was a sharp intake of breath from Cara, followed by murmured words. “Oh, that’s good.”

“You’re welcome,” Kahlan said with a smile.

The Mord-Sith shouldered her pack and they set off walking once again. “I’ve been thinking,” she said suddenly. “You broke the wizard’s web Nicci cast on me.”

Kahlan nodded. “Like I said, I just thought about it, and it happened. I don’t even know the words before they leave me.”

“There’s something else. Do you remember what Zedd always told us? About breaking spells that other wizards cast. Nicci couldn’t break the doorway spell because the Han that placed it there was more powerful than her own. You couldn’t have broken me free unless…”

“My Han was more powerful than Nicci’s,” Kahlan finished, her eyes widening.

“Kahlan, I think Alric Rahl created that cavern with his magic. The same Han that you have right now.”

The implications nearly made Kahlan stop in her tracks. Nicci had been the most powerful wielder of magic in the three territories, and now that title would belong to her even if the sorceress was still alive. That she had access to such destructive power was something she hadn’t stopped to consider. She wasn’t sure she wanted it. “Cara, what if I do something by accident?”

The blonde shrugged. “We’ll just hope you don’t until we can get answers or help for you.”

“That’s a terrible plan,” Kahlan sighed.

Cara acknowledged as much with a nod as they walked side by side. “What does it feel like?” she asked curiously. “You once told me you felt the loss, the emptiness, of your Confessor magic. Is it different?”

“It is, but…I can’t explain it much farther than that,” Kahlan admitted. “It’s so very different. I no longer feel empty, but I’m still getting used to everything else. At least my headaches are getting better. What about you?”

Cara raised her brow. “Me?”

“You’re Mord-Sith again. You can feel the bond?”

“I feel you,” Cara answered quietly, following with a clearing of her throat. “It’s no different than it was with Darken or Richard,” she added neutrally.

Kahlan wasn’t sure if she had been expecting anything else, so she just gave Cara a small smile.

****

Two mornings later they had reached the lower ridges of the Rang’Shada mountains and were close enough to the valley settlement for Cara to leave and retrieve their horses. The weather had stayed clear and was growing warmer, and the snow was less thick on the ground thanks to their lowering elevation. Cara stood before her, apparently apprehensive for more than one reason. “Will you be alright alone?” she asked Kahlan.

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t be.”

“I did swear never to leave you,” the blonde reminded her gently.

Kahlan sighed. “I can take care of myself.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Cara, it won’t even be a full day.”

She stared at Kahlan, seemingly biting back words, and crossed her arms. “Alright, I’m ready…I suppose.”

Kahlan wasn’t ready, and she wasn’t thinking about crows. When Cara looked down, seemingly in preparation, she took the opportunity to step forward and steal a quick hug from the Mord-Sith. As they wrapped their arms around each other neither of them seemed to want to let go, and it soon turned into a lengthy and tight embrace. “I didn’t get to hug you goodbye when you left for D’Hara before,” Kahlan said in a small voice, burying her head against Cara’s neck. “Be careful. Crows are small. Don’t get eaten by something bigger, and don’t you dare fall from the sky.”

Cara huffed against her, but didn’t push her away. Instead her hands slowly traveled up and down Kahlan’s back, a curiously intimate and reassuring gesture. “I’ll be fine,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t leave you alone for any longer than I have to. Like you said, not even a day. I should be able to meet you well before nightfall.”

When they finally pulled apart, Kahlan had a lump in her throat for reasons unknown, and she stared at Cara, stricken once again by the urge to raise a hand to her cheek, to cup her palm there, just to see what it felt like, what Cara would do. Would she lean into her touch, would she cover Kahlan’s hand with her own? Did Kahlan want her to?

Cara’s expression became guarded, and Kahlan had the sense that this parting was a strange reversal from their first; that she herself was the one riding away without a second look back. “When we get a chance to stop and breathe,” Kahlan said softly, “you’re going to tell me what that look means.”

Cara shook her head. “You don’t want to know. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t.”

“Then I’m changing my mind, right now,” Kahlan replied. “Whatever it is, I want to know. Promise me that you’ll tell me soon?”

Cara lowered her eyes, then her head followed. She nodded wordlessly, and Kahlan breathed a sigh of relief. “Fly fast, Cara,” she whispered.

****

After gifting their horses to Earl, who had accompanied them to the Mord-Sith temple after informing them that the raiders had ended up only taking grain, Kahlan and Cara stepped up to the entrance. The doors to the temple were thrown open wide; it was likely abandoned either during the baneling scourge or when Richard died and the Mord-Sith became less themselves. As it was, she followed Cara up through the narrow stone corridors, past empty living quarters and torture chambers alike, and eventually arrived in a small dark room with a circular inscription on the tiled floor.

“Cara, this seems more complicated,” Kahlan said, suddenly nervous. “I haven’t done anything like this yet. What if we end up somewhere else?”

“You’ll do fine, there’s really nowhere else to end up,” Cara assured her, giving her a gentle push onto the rune. “The temples aren’t tied to each other. Just think of the People’s Palace.”

“Tell me one more time,” Kahlan said, stepping back off obstinately.

“We’ll be in a library,” Cara sighed. “We’re going to find as many Mord-Sith as we can as soon as we can. Your arrival might be complicated at first, and things might not settle down until you can lead evening devotions. You should stay close to us until then. Let us do our job to protect you.”

“How do I know they won’t rebel? Cara, they might recognize me as the Mother Confessor.”

“Because you are the Lady Rahl, and you accept your position,” Cara said simply. “Richard never did, and because of that the bond never manifested in him beyond its most basic form. Not to the degree where the Mord-Sith were called to him. Kahlan, I promise you, every Mord-Sith in the People’s Palace can already feel the presence of a Rahl. They will serve you, but you have to demand it, and…you may have to prove yourself worthy of their service.”

“Prove myself,” Kahlan repeated, brow raised. Her mind immediately conjured elaborate Mord-Sith rituals consisting of chains and dark rooms.

“If any of them give you trouble, hit them,” Cara said with a shrug. “It’s the language a Mord-Sith best understands, and their loyalty will only increase. You may only have to do it once.”

Kahlan sighed to show her disapproval, but truthfully she was relieved it was that simple. The blonde stepped onto the rune and raised her brow, and Kahlan grimaced and stepped on with her. “Hold on tight, Cara,” she said firmly. “I want you in one piece.”

Cara shuffled closer and gamely embraced her front, and Kahlan stood straight and spread her arms out to the sides. A short incantation left her without thought and her world became engulfed in blue flames before flashing to darkness.

They found themselves in the corner of a small and silent library, the walls lined with shelves crafted of rich and dark wood. Scrolls and books alike filled them, and Kahlan spent a small moment in awe of how neat and organized everything was. The room and furnishings were nothing if not opulent; the ceilings were vaulted, the tiled floors shone, and there were silken tapestries wherever the bookcases left enough space. This didn’t look a place wracked by chaos and disorder.

Cara stepped away and inspected the room with crossed arms before turning back to her. “Lady Rahl, welcome to the People’s Palace.”


	8. Chapter 8

Kahlan stopped her just when she was about to push open the library door. “Cara, wait…I need a moment. I don’t know what I’m going to tell them.”

The Mord-Sith gave a curt nod and stepped away while Kahlan took a deep breath. Truthfully, the enormity of what she was about to do was just beginning to take hold. She had been trained and prepared for most of her life to lead nations, but this seemed different. Unnatural. When her fellow Confessors had bestowed her the title of Mother Confessor, she felt honored. She had prepared for such an eventuality. Becoming the leader of the proud nation of D’Hara was not something she was prepared to do, at all, and despite Cara’s assurances, she wasn’t convinced they would so readily accept her rule. Yet here she was.

Footsteps passed outside the door, growing louder and then retreating. Kahlan was suddenly and keenly aware that she was wearing the same traveling dress she’d had for months, and turned to Cara while darting her eyes over her own front. “Do I look alright?”

The Mord-Sith raised her brow and stepped forward, placing her hands on Kahlan’s shoulders and giving her a once over. She brushed a few errant lengths of Kahlan’s hair to the side and nodded curtly. “Trust me—you’re far prettier than Darken Rahl ever was.”

Kahlan gave her a half smile. “A small comfort, but I’ll take it. Thank you, Cara. I think I’m ready.”

With that she opened the door herself, glancing from side to side out into the wide corridor. The People’s Palace seemed to be constructed mainly of massive blocks of stone with thick inset pillars of white marble spaced evenly through the hall. Kahlan paused once again on the threshold. “Which way?” she whispered.

“Left,” Cara replied, placing a reassuring hand on the small of Kahlan’s back.

It was an altogether eerie and unsettling experience. They began to walk the labyrinthine passages of the People’s Palace, Cara staying half a step behind her shoulder to guide her turns. Everyone they passed looked at Kahlan as if they knew her, but couldn’t place where they recognized her from. It wasn’t much later that she realized they were being followed.

She heard their footsteps first, and a glance over her shoulder revealed a small crowd twenty paces behind them, their faces all intensely focused on Kahlan. There were Palace guards, Mord-Sith, and seeming commoners all together in the throng, and it was growing. Cara saw her unsettled and immediately spoke to reassure her. “They sense the bond in you. We’re almost there, just a little farther.”

They turned a corner and Kahlan’s eyes widened in surprise. It was a simple intersection of two hallways, but the arched ceiling was distinctly lacking. Bright sunlight was falling through the wide opening to illuminate a small fountain surrounded by smooth sand. “This is one of countless places where D’Harans give morning and evening devotions,” Cara told her quietly. “Step onto the sand before you address them.”

Kahlan stepped into the shaft of sunlight and turned, standing straight with her head held high. Cara stood two paces away, at the edge of the sand, and turned to the side at attention, her hands clasped behind her back and her chin raised. Kahlan suddenly couldn’t take her eyes away from her—she rarely saw Cara standing so tall, so proud. Despite her set expression, there was a look in her eyes that said she wanted nothing more than to be right here, right now. Kahlan realized she might have truly missed this. She was home.

The crowd gathered before her, nearly two score in all, with the Mord-Sith pushing their way to the front. Most of them were wearing brown leathers; only a couple wore the red that she had grown used to. Kahlan was just beginning to wonder if she was going to be accosted when they stopped at the edge of the sand and stood still, just like the others. No one had said a single whispered word; the only sound was that of water trickling over stone behind her.

Kahlan took a deep breath to speak firmly and clearly. “People of D’Hara. Many weeks ago, the last carrier of Rahl blood left this world, and the bond left with him. The Keeper’s war has ravaged your nation, like it did every other, and in this time of your great need, I have taken up the power of the bond. I am the Lady Rahl, and I intend to bring your nation back from the brink of ruin. I offer you a future brighter than any of you would dare to hope, but you must first surrender to me.” She stepped forward, to the edge of the sand, and looked over their faces. “D’Harans, what is your answer?”

A tall Mord-Sith moved forward from her Sisters, head raised in defiance, and stepped within arm’s reach of her. “I see a woman before us, like any other,” she said loudly, staring intently at Kahlan. “What makes you so worthy of the bond you stole? Why do you somehow think you know what it is necessary to take charge of D’Hara’s future? You seem nothing more than—”

Kahlan moved quickly, and the Mord-Sith’s head snapped to the side as the back of her hand struck her face. “Because I know D’Hara’s true past,” Kahlan answered equally loudly, her voice calm despite her action. “Will you surrender? Mord-Sith, will you serve?”

The Mord-Sith, blood trickling from her split lip, immediately dropped to one knee and placed a fist over her heart. “Master Rahl guide us, Master Rahl teach us, Master Rahl protect us,” she began. Others in the crowd began dropping as well, and they took up the chant. “In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled.” Everyone before her was soon on bended knee, and Kahlan swallowed at the sight. She risked a glance at Cara and a chill ran down her spine when she saw the blonde kneeling as well. “We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

****

“Go tell your Sisters,” Cara instructed, her hands on the double doors. “Spread the word of the Lady Rahl’s arrival throughout the People’s Palace. She will address the public at evening devotions.”

The Mord-Sith comprising their escort turned to carry out their orders, and Kahlan stepped deeper into the antechamber to the Lord Rahl’s personal rooms as Cara closed the doors. Kahlan quickly pushed through the second set of doors on the other end of the wide hall, mainly in search of a place to sit down.

She couldn’t keep her brow from raising at the sight of the Lord Rahl’s bedchamber. It was expansive and extravagant, with arched ceilings, rich furniture, and two massive hearths on either end. They were, of course, cold and dark, but Kahlan found it easy to imagine the roaring warmth being a comfort on cold nights. A series of tall windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling on the far wall, offering a view of the rest of the Palace and the Azrith Plains beyond. Her mind’s inevitable comparison to the Mother Confessor’s bedchambers was no contest.

“That went well,” Cara offered, arriving at her side.

“Good advice on your part,” Kahlan murmured, casting her gaze about the room. “Cara, this is…”

“Yours,” Cara finished for her. “I recommend you have them change the sheets.”

Kahlan grimaced. “More good advice.” She stepped into the room, heading directly for an upholstered divan against the wall. After taking a heavy seat, she thanked the spirits that nothing had yet gone horribly wrong. Of course, there was still the matter of informing D’Hara that they had to go to war. She had decided to wait and announce that to the populace at large later that evening. “Cara,” she asked suddenly. “Why did you kneel?”

The blonde took a slow seat beside her. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked quietly. “I am Mord-Sith. You are my Lady Rahl. Kahlan, do not forbid me devotions simply because of…what we…”

Her voice trailed off and Kahlan bit her lip, wondering what Cara had wanted to say. “I don’t want to be that,” she said. “Not to you. Cara, I don't want you to…live to serve me.”

“Kahlan, I can’t be seen foregoing devotions,” Cara sighed.

A firm knock on the outer set of doors saved Kahlan from having to argue further. “Berdine and Raina,” the blonde explained. “You asked for Mord-Sith that I trusted.”

Kahlan nodded and stood while Cara headed to retrieve them. She introduced a tall and dark-haired Mord-Sith with piercing blue eyes as Berdine, and a shorter Sister with jet black hair and brown eyes as Raina. They didn’t even look at the room around them, and Kahlan realized that all of them, Cara included, might be well familiar with the interior of Darken Rahl’s bedchamber. She forced the thoughts from her mind and accepted their D’Haran salutes with a curt nod. “You helped Cara find the map,” she ventured to Berdine.

“Yes, my Lady,” she answered. “I look forward to the opportunity to serve you. If I may say, you seem every bit the woman Cara made you out to be.”

Kahlan’s brow shot straight up and she looked to see Cara giving Berdine an open glare. Berdine appeared completely unaware, her face a picture of calm. Kahlan had the distinct feeling she’d just missed out on something.

“We left your packs just outside the door,” Raina interjected. “They were in the library where you left them and didn’t appear to have been touched.”

“Thank you, Raina,” Kahlan said.

“My Lady,” she replied, dipping her head.

Kahlan realized it would likely take a while to acclimate to her new title. She would never be called Mother Confessor ever again, unless by mistake. “I have a task for you,” she said, addressing the two. “The Midlands are gathering their armies as we speak and will reach the border of D’Hara within a week. I need information on their numbers and movement, and you will take two other Mord-Sith of your choice and discover this information for me. I believe flying would be a great advantage for such a mission.”

Raina smiled at her implication. Berdine did not.

“So the rumors are true, then,” Raina offered.

Kahlan clasped her hands behind her back. “D’Hara knows of the imminent war?” she asked curiously.

“They were only that,” Berdine offered. “Rumors. There are still the occasional merchants willing to cross the border and bring whatever news they can along with their wares.”

“These rumors are widespread?” Kahlan asked.

Berdine gave a curt nod, and Kahlan turned away and began to pace. “Good,” she said. “It won’t be a shock this evening at…devotions.”

“D’Hara is a country of war,” Cara said from her side. “It wouldn’t have been a shock regardless.”

Kahlan shook her head. “That wasn’t always the case,” she sighed. “Cara, these devotions. What is their purpose? I could almost feel…something when they were giving them in the hall.”

Berdine coughed. “Cara, did you not tell her _anything_ about what she was doing?” she asked in amazement.

Kahlan’s eyes flew to them both. “What am I doing?”

“Forgive me, Lady Rahl,” Berdine said. “I just assumed that Cara explained the nature of the bond to you before you took it.”

“And deny you the pleasure of talking about your beloved history and lore?” Cara replied, arching a single eyebrow. “Berdine, I wouldn’t dare.”

“I didn’t have much time to make the decision,” Kahlan admitted. “She never had much of a chance, I suppose.”

Berdine nodded. “If my Lady would like to make herself comfortable, I think we have much to discuss.”

Cara looked to Raina. “The Palace servants need to be made aware that their Lady Rahl requires a meal and that her rooms require attention. We should leave Berdine to her droning.”

Kahlan bit back a remark about settling in being premature, instead watching in sudden interest as Raina hesitantly ran her hand across Berdine’s back before making to head for the door. Berdine lowered her eyes, but Kahlan saw fear in them before she did so. “Stop,” Kahlan commanded. “Do not mock me by pretending such an action was intended to be casual.”

Raina, appearing properly chastised, turned back and stood quite close to Berdine’s side. The pair looked at her and Kahlan’s expression softened. “You are lovers?” she ventured.

Berdine made to speak but Cara snorted from their side. “If Mord-Sith could be married and grow old together, these two would be doing exactly that.”

A hint of a smile curled Raina’s lips, but Berdine held Kahlan’s gaze. “It wasn’t our intent to offend you, Lady Rahl. We were unsure of how you would receive us. And,” she added, throwing a glare of her own to Cara, “we would vastly prefer dying side by side in battle, painted in the blood of our foes.”

“I see no harm here,” Kahlan said gently. “As long as your duty remains clear to you.” It was no less than she had ever asked of herself. When they bowed their heads in acknowledgment, she spoke to Raina. “Go, and keep Mistress Cara out of trouble.”

Raina smiled, Cara rolled her eyes, and the two departed. Kahlan retook her seat on the divan, resting the back of her head against the wall. She nearly offered a seat to Berdine but knew the Mord-Sith would decline. “The devotions and the bond,” she said after a deep breath. “What are they exactly?”

“The bond is a subtle connection between a Rahl and his subjects. Her subjects,” Berdine added apologetically.

Kahlan smiled in reassurance. “I’m well aware that I’m the first Lady Rahl. Please, continue, and don’t concern yourself with such things.”

Berdine nodded. “It was created by Alric Rahl in his youth. He was incredibly gifted in regards to magic, and formed it as a way to protect his people from the Dreamwalkers.”

“The Dreamwalkers aren’t a threat,” Kahlan said, slightly confused. “They did me a favor of informing me that the Confessor line was in danger through a dream.”

“A thousand years is a long time,” Berdine reminded her gently. “His reasons are unknown, but he created it nonetheless. In forging the bond his people would be tied to him and he to his people, and he would be able to protect them. It is…somewhat difficult to put into words exactly what it does, what it feels like. It’s a very subtle sharing of the most base emotions that people experience.”

Kahlan’s eyes widened in alarm. “They can feel what I feel?”

“No,” Berdine assured her quickly. “It’s never so clear and apparent, and it happens on a scale of weeks. No one will know if you grow angry or happy for a day, only if such a mood persists and becomes a part of you. It’s always quite vague and rather easily ignored in the back of our minds. There is never any control, Lady Rahl. Your people have their free will.”

“I don’t understand,” Kahlan sighed.

“The war that’s coming,” Berdine mused. “Darken Rahl would have been most pleased by it, and would doubtlessly be looking forward to his chance to crush the Midlands once and for all. Do you share that sentiment?”

“Of course not. I don’t want a war, not at all.”

“And your people will sense that. They will eventually sense your unease, that you are unsettled, and they will sense your resolve and your desire for peace. It will be strange to them, but only at first. Likewise, should your people ever have reason to fear, to worry, or even to be glad on a large scale, you will know it.”

Kahlan nodded, deciding to share another concern. Cara did trust her, after all. “I think I understand,” she said, settling deeper into the upholstery. “Berdine…though D’Hara may be a nation of war, I cannot rally D’Harans with inspiring words of crushing our foes to their ruin. They were my own lands just months ago.”

“Your intentions are just,” Berdine reassured her. “Assuming you want the survival of D’Hara, that is enough. Lady Rahl,” she said hesitantly, “do you have worries of your people trusting you?”

“I…don’t understand how they could. I was the Mother Confessor,” Kahlan stressed. “The leader of their lifelong enemy.”

“The bond works in your favor,” Berdine replied. “If you had dark intentions for D’Hara, its citizens would begin to feel as much before long. Possibly within a few devotions, depending on how deeply ingrained such betrayal would be in your own thoughts.”

“The devotions are…a strengthening of the bond?” Kahlan guessed.

“A reaffirming,” Berdine confirmed. “Twice a day. I don’t know what it feels like to receive the devotions, but I imagine it’s something you’ve never felt before.”

“I suppose I’ll find out this evening,” Kahlan said, closing her eyes for a moment. “Berdine…when you were searching for the map, did you find anything about the destruction of D’Hara that formed the Plains of Azrith?”

Berdine looked genuinely confused. “Formed, my Lady? The Plains have always been just that.”

It would make sense, Kahlan supposed, that the Rahl lineage following Alric’s son had denied they were cursed. They denied the existence of the Wizard responsible, and gradually, when enough centuries had passed, they erased the records and memories of such events and everything related. But their reach didn’t extend with such strength into the Midlands, and so the ancient maps of Kahlan’s memories survived to become an oddity, a curious thing, and nothing more.

“I have something important to tell you about D’Hara’s past,” Kahlan said, leaning forward. “I think you’ll find it interesting…”

****

Kahlan was well adjusted to receiving respect and commanding authority, but this was something entirely different. The massive crowd, tightly packed and sprawling into the streets below the balcony, was truly beyond count, and their voices lifted as one as they gave Kahlan their devotion. She had trusted Berdine and, in her speech, simply told them the truth in a voice loud and strong. That she wanted D’Hara to flourish and prosper, but they had to defend themselves in war before that would be possible. And now, with the words echoing from the high stone walls around her, Kahlan felt their surrender, their trust, and their devotion. It ran hot in her blood, and she was filled with the knowledge that she could help these people, that they both needed and deserved it, and that she had made the right choice in the heart of that mountain mere days ago. There was no doubt left in her.

Her walk back to her bedchambers was filled with contemplative silence. They passed under the open sky in places, and the fading sunlight filled the halls with the color of dusk. Cara, in her usual place right behind her shoulder, seemed content to let her think on what she had just experienced. Truthfully Kahlan’s thoughts were anything but focused. There was too much going on for reflection on any single thing, but chief among them was the knowledge that she would soon have Cara alone to talk. Their retinue of Mord-Sith stopped at the outer doors to her rooms and two stayed to guard the entrance while the others departed.

“You did well,” Cara offered once they were in the short hall. Kahlan nodded her thanks and, overcome by sudden curiosity, peeked into the other doors lining the anteroom. There was a washroom constructed solely of flawless white marble and gold trimmings, a storeroom, a nearly empty wardrobe, and a strangely sparse and small living quarters.

When she paused, trying to derive the meager room’s purpose, Cara cleared her throat awkwardly behind her. “When the Lord Rahl chose a favorite mate,” she said quietly, “he could keep her close, available, but out of sight and mind if he so desired.”

Kahlan promptly closed the door and pushed saddening thoughts from her mind as she strode into the main bedchambers. She knew that Cara had borne Darken Rahl a child once; the thought of her in that room nearly made Kahlan sick. She could never forget that she was replacing a black-hearted tyrant, nor could she forget that the people around her were used to such treatment.

The servants Cara had alluded to had been hard at work during her absence; both fires were going strong in the hearths and things looked decidedly tended to. The dark wood of the furniture was polished to a shine, the sheets were changed and straightened on the massive four-poster bed, and the thick rugs were gone—likely to be washed and dried. Kahlan breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t want any evidence that he was ever here,” she said, almost to herself, as she closed the doors behind them.

“So I told your servants,” Cara replied.

Kahlan gave her a smile and averted her eyes, looking down at the floor, around the room, almost not wanting to breach the subject. “We made it, Cara. We’re here, we’re safe,” she said quietly, finally braving the blonde’s gaze. “This is our chance to stop and breathe.”

“Not safe for long. If there’s a war, I’m going to fight in it,” Cara said in return, cleanly dodging Kahlan’s unspoken request. She didn’t feel surprised, just a little disappointed. “But Kahlan, I need Agiels again.”

That wasn’t surprising either, so Kahlan just nodded. Then Cara grew hesitant. “I can’t just use any Agiels,” she said, avoiding Kahlan’s gaze in turn. “I need to be trained with them. Otherwise the pain they inflict on my foes won’t be…enough. There’s a reason new Mord-Sith are given the Agiels used in their breakings.”

Kahlan frowned. “But you took Triana’s Agiel and it worked for you.”

“Triana and I were not strangers to each other’s Agiels,” Cara said carefully. “We were rivals in every way, including the tolerance of pain.”

Kahlan quickly realized what Cara was implying. The concept of such recreational torture was, while disturbing, not entirely unexpected. “Oh…I see. Well, I suppose you’ll do what you need to. Were you just letting me know?”

She hardly wanted Cara to be tortured; in fact, she desperately wished it could be avoided. But she both trusted Cara and knew she could take it without a sweat, and she wouldn’t insult or dishonor the Mord-Sith by insinuating she shouldn’t or couldn’t. Yet when Cara raised her head in seeming defiance, Kahlan found herself fearing her next words. “I want you to do it,” the blonde said calmly.

Kahlan blinked. “Cara?”

“I want to be broken by your hand,” Cara said, her voice unapologetic. “It would be the greatest honor, and it would reinforce your position as Lady Rahl among the Mord-Sith.”

Kahlan actually took a step back before replying. “I don’t understand,” she said, her voice small. “Cara, how can you ask that of me? I care too much for you to hurt you like that.”

To her surprise and sudden interest, Cara didn’t argue the point. “Will you be present then? To oversee it.”

For Cara to give up on her initial request so easily, Kahlan knew something else was going on in her thoughts. It didn’t take Kahlan long to figure out when she considered what had started the conversation. “Is it truly such a terrible secret?” she asked softly, taking steps toward the blonde. “You think you can only tell me when you’re broken and hanging bloody from chains?”

She knew she’d guessed right when raw emotion passed over Cara’s face, but then her expression became guarded once again. “Cara. Don’t you dare hide this from me,” Kahlan said quietly, firmly. “We’ve been through too much together for that.”

“That’s just it,” Cara said, her control on her voice wavering ever so slightly. Kahlan waited, standing silently in an attempt to make it very clear that they weren’t going anywhere, and eventually Cara seemed to reach a decision. Her jaw tightened and she said, “I need to show you something.”

She stalked to the wall by the double doors, kneeled by her pack, and pulled something from it. After pausing for a moment, as if considering placing it back, she turned and stepped back toward Kahlan. The journeybook was in her gloved hand, and Kahlan swallowed. She knew exactly what Cara was going to say next.

“It’s not unreadable,” the Mord-Sith confirmed quietly. “It’s just difficult. I…read it sometimes, at night. Here,” she said, offering the scarred book to Kahlan.

She took it, the weight familiar in her hands, and walked slowly to a fireplace, flipping through the pages. Cara was right; the letters were unreadable in places, the pages nearly black, but it was overall very much legible. She read small parts, reliving bits of the first two weeks of their separation, and Cara stayed at her side, seemingly waiting for something.

“Why did you lie?” Kahlan asked softly, nearing the end of the filled pages.

“Because you might ask to see it,” Cara replied. “And then you might see _that_ , or…what used to be there.”

Kahlan stopped at the last marked page. It was the one on which she had written her final words to Cara, and the next page was torn out. “What did it say?” Kahlan whispered, running a finger over the torn paper in the middle.

“I thought I might have lost you,” Cara said, her voice strained. “I begged you to be alive, to respond, I asked your forgiveness for failing you, and I wanted you to know…what you meant to me.”

Emotion was thick in Kahlan’s throat as she held the book at her side and stood to face Cara. “Why did you tear it out?”

She almost didn’t want to hear the answer, but Cara replied anyway. “I burned it…that night we spent in the valley before the mountains.” The blonde’s eyes were growing wet and her voice hoarse and broken. “I was going to try and forget…to make myself stop.”

“Cara…stop what?” Kahlan whispered. She wanted to touch Cara’s face, to stroke her cheek, to reassure her with an intimate touch, and this time she did so. The Mord-Sith closed her eyes at the contact, and as she covered Kahlan’s hand with her own, pressing Kahlan’s palm to her skin, wetness rolled free from the corner of her eye.

“Caring so much for you, Kahlan,” she whispered back. “I care too much. I was never supposed to feel this. It just happened, and Kahlan, you’re all that…I couldn’t…it feels. If I ever…” She looked away and took a ragged and frustrated breath. “Kahlan, I can’t. I don’t know how to…”

Kahlan felt familiar pressure and heat behind her eyes, and the journeybook fell loudly to the floor as she raised her other palm to cup Cara’s cheeks. She closed her eyes just to remember what it felt like. Wetness rolled down her own face just as her palms felt Cara’s tears, and then she felt Cara turn her head in her hands. Soft and warm lips pressed to the heels of her palms, first one, then the other, and Kahlan opened her eyes to see Cara’s own squeezed shut as she kissed her.

Kahlan felt broken. The Mord-Sith had described love in the only way she knew how, and in case that failed, she had shown her. For so long Kahlan had been blinded by grief, by self-pity, by her own inability to comprehend the existence of feelings other than her own, that she couldn’t see Cara was right in front of her, asking for a chance to be more, to help her heal, to be trusted. The first things she thought of, accompanied by sharp pangs of regret, were all the things that should have made this obvious, and all the ways Kahlan must have hurt her.

“Cara, I can’t believe I…” Kahlan let go of her face and took a tight hold on her gloved hands in turn. “I’m so sorry that I said all those things to you. That I was so blind.” As she took the last step forward, their bodies close, she laid her head against Cara’s and simply whispered her name.

But she knew that Cara didn’t want an apology. Cara needed to know if her feelings were misplaced, disallowed; if Kahlan would reject her. Kahlan sighed, wanting to respond and reassure. Cara’s words and actions had reached deep, dredging up a part of her that she thought was gone, feelings she never expected to survive her loss. But it felt like they were there all the same, and she wondered if she had been blind to the wants of her own heart as well as Cara’s. If her thoughts had never stopped doing secret things, hidden things, while she was busy focusing on everything and nothing.

Cara seemed afraid to open her eyes. Kahlan bit hard on her lip; she wanted so badly to return Cara’s unspoken vow, but she cared far too much for this woman to risk a lie simply because she wanted it to be true. So she placed Cara’s palms to cup her own jaw, savoring the feel of warmth under the leather, and said, “Cara, I’m still here.”

Cara's lids and lashes fluttered, and the shade of green they revealed seemed clearer and brighter from the wetness. When Cara whispered her own name with a furrowed brow, seemingly for no reason other than to hear it, knowledge left Kahlan’s heart to sear into her thoughts. Her chest didn’t flutter or feel light, the world didn’t seem suddenly brighter, and but she knew all the same. She felt nothing but a calm and overwhelming desire to promise herself to Cara in every way she could.

Kahlan was never at a loss for words, but there was truly nothing in her mind except raw emotion and feeling, every bit directed at the woman waiting for her response, her answer, her rejection or her promise. So she kissed Cara’s leathered palms, first one, then the other, and nestled her head into her hands to show her submission, her acceptance, her equal want. Cara caressed her cheeks, and her breathing grew heavy and labored despite her apparent best efforts.

Kahlan took her hands and guided them to the bed to sit down heavily on the edge side by side. There was still disbelief in Cara’s eyes, as if she couldn’t understand how Kahlan could actually be doing these things. Kahlan carefully wiped the tears away from the blonde’s cheeks, hating how Cara seemed truly afraid to break her gaze.

There was one thing Kahlan could do that would speak clearly for her, and she shifted herself a little closer. But as she slipped a hand behind Cara’s neck and leaned in, the blonde stopped her with whispered words. “You said…” She paused to swallow, looking down in hesitance. “You said you wouldn’t…to anyone…that you don’t.”

“That’s still true,” Kahlan said gently. “Let me kiss you?”

Cara waited the shortest of moments before reaching a hand to Kahlan’s side. They pulled each other close and paused, lips a hair’s breadth apart, sharing the same breath, and then Kahlan closed that smallest distance between them with the slightest brush. Her vow was sealed with the touch, and she had never been more sure of anything. She licked her lips and pressed them more urgently to Cara’s, with increasing certainty, and Cara’s hands moved to cup her neck. The way their lips moved together, separating and touching, the tenderness of the kiss, stole Kahlan’s ability to think of anything else. She knew she had never kissed anyone like this before—not with such gentle desperation, never with such a promise as to make her chest ache.

Cara’s lips, so warm and soft, took her own, first the top and then the bottom, and as Kahlan let her, canting her head to the side to better meet her, she realized she had truly believed she would never experience this ever again, this feeling, this emotion, the sensation that came with the simple act of sharing such affection with someone she cared so much for, and it wasn’t long before she was overcome with it. Her lower lip trembled despite herself, fresh tears left her eyes, and she pulled her hand back and turned away in exasperation. “I’m sorry,” she forced out, her own voice breaking. “I can’t stop crying…I ruined your kiss. I’m…”

Cara sniffled beside her, a sound she had never before heard from the Mord-Sith, and Kahlan looked to see her face buried in her hands; something she had never seen. “Why are we crying?” Cara asked, her voice muffled.

“Because it hurts to feel this much,” Kahlan said softly. “Or it does me at least.” But Cara was right; this was not something best celebrated by endless tears. Their journey, their shared loss and pain, had formed something beautiful between them, and once Kahlan recognized it as such, she offered Cara a small smile, forced at first, that quickly became genuine when Cara looked up and matched it in kind.

Wordlessly Kahlan fell back onto the bed, motioning for Cara to do the same. They stayed above the sheets, Kahlan in her dress and Cara in her leathers, and they settled close on their sides, facing each other. “We’ve never slept like this,” Kahlan whispered.

Strangely it was true; they had begun sleeping with their backs to each other, then Cara began keeping Kahlan safe from her dreams, and then Kahlan started keeping Cara warm in the mountains. But they had never gone to sleep face to face, and in answer, Cara took both of Kahlan’s hands and held them tightly between them.

“We could start,” she offered. “If we are to…sleep together, still.”

Kahlan had never stopped to think of it. Cara was Mord-Sith again; she would have, might need to have, her own personal quarters. “I would like that,” she ventured, “if you could tear yourself away from your own bed on occasion.”

Cara pursed her lips. “I could forget to requisition quarters for myself,” she said hesitantly. “I would be stuck here with you.”

Kahlan smiled. “I hope I can consider it forgotten.” She freed a hand to stroke the skin of Cara’s cheek and run fingers through her blonde hair while Cara gazed back at her. Kahlan truly had been blind. “Cara,” she said quietly, “I’m not whole yet. I don’t know if I ever can be, but…whatever part of me is, and is healed, belongs to you. I swear it. I am yours, in all my broken splendor, if you’ll have me.”

“And I yours,” Cara promised. “I swear it.” She leaned in and kissed Kahlan then, and Kahlan was fully aware that it was the first time she had done so of her own mind. She welcomed Cara’s lips with her own, and though for now the kiss stayed chaste, it was languid; they both knew there was plenty of time, and they were content to drink in simple closeness and intimacy. “Kahlan,” she sighed, pulling back and looking down. “I am…”

Kahlan’s brow furrowed at her hesitance. “You are what?” she asked gently. She lifted Cara’s chin up and found her gaze.

“I am…a poor replacement for him,” Cara confessed. “I will never be what he could have been for you.”

Kahlan sighed before trailing her fingers through blonde hair again. It hurt her that Cara would think such things, but such was the reality of the events that led them here. “You are not a replacement,” she promised softly. “You never were, you never will be. You are Cara, and no one else. I don’t need a replacement…I need you. And I need you to believe me, Cara. Alright?”

Cara nodded slowly, and she held Kahlan’s gaze as she pulled a leather glove from her hand. When she reached her bare fingers to trail over Kahlan’s face, down her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw, there was such wonder in her eyes that Kahlan couldn’t close her own if she wanted to. It was obvious Kahlan had not been the only one thinking of such an intimate touch. “Is there something on me?” she asked at length, offering a small smile as she let Cara’s hand explore and wander over her skin.

“Yes,” Cara answered quietly. “Places I want to kiss. Is there something in my hair?”

Kahlan paused, having been nearly unaware of her own hand stroking through Cara’s blonde lengths. “If there is, I’ll find it and let you know,” she replied softly. A thumb strayed over Kahlan’s lips and she kissed it, drawing a smile from its owner.

A knock sounded on the inner door, startling them considerably and breaking their shared reverie, and Kahlan sighed deeply. “Will they go away?”

“They’re bringing your evening meal,” Cara said. “They’ll leave it at the door if you don’t respond, but I don’t want it to get cold for you.”

She made to rise, but Kahlan reached for her hand and gripped it desperately. “Don’t,” she pleaded. “I don’t want this moment to be over. And if you get up and leave the bed, it will be. It’ll be over.”

Cara raised Kahlan’s hand to her face and gently brushed her lips against her skin. “Then we’ll make another moment.”

Kahlan pushed herself up onto her side and sniffed her acquiescence, and when Cara kissed her hand again, with closed eyes, she whispered, “Stop, Cara. You’ll make me cry again.”

Cara’s expression changed and her mouth twisted, as if she were trying not to smile. Kahlan smiled in turn and dipped her head to huff back a sudden laugh, and when she looked up Cara was wearing her familiar smirk. “How long did you make it this time?” the blonde asked.

“Weeks, I think,” Kahlan answered ruefully. “But…I forgive you.” As she turned to watch Cara answer the door Kahlan placed a palm over her own heart, and she felt a smile grow on her face when she felt its beat.

****

The men standing before her in the cavernous throne room the next day, supposedly the general and captains of the D’Haran army, struck Kahlan more as boys trying to play at being men. They seemed to believe that loudness of voice and sureness of speech were the only requirements for such titles. Egremont’s suspicious death mere days before Kahlan’s arrival had created yet another vacuum of power that they struggled to fill, and so far they were doing a horrible job of it. The unpleasant fact of the matter was that she hardly had time to handpick new and more fitting leaders. She had to make do for now, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make adjustments.

Kahlan rose from the massive stone-built throne of D’Hara, her dark red cloak falling behind her, and stepped down from the dais, coming to stand a mere two paces from the few men lined before her. Her steps and her voice both echoed sharply from the walls around them. “You,” she said, fixing her gaze on the most reasonable—and quietest, which was no coincidence in her mind—man among them. “Tell me your name.”

“Captain Tavert, Lady Rahl,” he replied.

“Congratulations on your new appointment, General Tavert. As for you,” she said, swinging her forcibly calm gaze to the former general, “you may either accept his old post or become the foot soldier you no doubt deserve to be. You may also feel free to fall upon your own sword in an attempt to spite me.”

His jaw bulged and his chest puffed with a deep breath before he spoke. “Lady Rahl,” he began, “You clearly don’t understand D’Haran military procedure. You can’t simply…do that. And we should prepare to march immediately if the threat is as real as you say.”

Kahlan called upon every bit of her self-control, but it was quickly slipping. “It is done,” she assured him. “Apparently, I can simply do just that. And we are not leaving this city until we know what we’re going to find. Thus, we will stay right here until our scouts return. I recommend you use such time to prepare your men.”

“How can you be so sure waiting won’t be disastrous?” another man countered. “I don’t think you…”

He paused suddenly and looked up, and Kahlan, in her sudden anger, almost didn’t realize the entire room was shaking ever so slightly. Dust drifted from the vaulted ceiling and a faint rumble filled the air. Such vibrations were decidedly not good for stone. Kahlan took a deep breath and unclenched her fists, and they ceased. “We will win this war, gentlemen,” she said, the word bitter on her tongue, “but it won’t be won through second-guessing my every decision. You have your orders. That will be all.”

“Victory is hardly ever assured,” the man countered with a thinly veiled smirk. “Your naivety in matters of war is obvious. Having you as our—”

Kahlan flexed her palms at her sides and a concussive blast of magic left her, hurling every man back through the air to land sprawling several paces away. They lay stunned, a groan surfacing from one of them, and she quickly stepped through them. “We will win this war, gentlemen, _because_ you have me,” she called, letting the walls carry her words back to them.

With that she left them to their doubtlessly aching bones and egos and stepped between the ever-silent guards to leave the throne room. Kahlan had nearly loosed the full brunt of her power out of simple exasperation. She needed to find Cara.


	9. Chapter 9

Kahlan walked the halls of the People’s Palace with quick steps, trying both not to get lost and to keep up the appearance of being at leisure. She wasn’t sure why she felt such sudden urgency; her spontaneous anger from the throne room had dissipated. The need to see Cara as soon as possible was still strong, but there was more than one likely reason for that—not the least of which was Cara’s absence when she woke that morning. She had never heard such deafening silence, and she had never felt a colder bed.

The people she passed no longer looked at her like they had that first day she arrived. With her new dress flowing behind her—somewhat similar in appearance to a Confessor dress, by her request, but made of deep red fabric with golden accents—she knew she looked every bit the Lady Rahl, and the people’s reactions to her were as such. She tried to keep her steps purposefully slow, but it was proving difficult. Her mind was racing.

Maybe Cara was having second thoughts. She was back home, among her own, and despite the changes wrought in her over the past months, Kahlan could imagine her wanting to regain some sense of her former identity, surrounded as she was by reminders of it. She had enjoyed a brief stint as Darken Rahl’s head Mord-Sith, and although she experienced regret for some of her actions as such, she had never apologized for what she was—not that Kahlan wanted or expected her to. Cara had claimed feeling and emotion for Kahlan that conflicted with everything she used to be; what if Cara thought she had to choose? What if she actually did have to?

She found herself outside her bedchambers, sighing as she approached the doors. There was no reason for Cara to be here, but she didn’t know where else to look. If Cara didn’t want to be found Kahlan wouldn’t find her. She had learned as much from traveling with her, and that was in the wilderness, not a massive labyrinth of a palace; a veritable nation under one roof. So she stopped at the outer doors, hating what she was about to ask the two Mord-Sith stationed outside.

“The Mord-Sith Cara. Have you seen her?” she asked, barely holding back a grimace at how helpless she sounded.

One of them hesitated. “She instructed me to tell you that she would return by evening devotions.”

“Do you know where she is?”

This resulted in more hesitation; the woman appeared decidedly unsure, and Kahlan quickly decided that Cara had ordered her to secrecy. “Tell me,” she said firmly.

“Mistress Cara—”

“Is not your Lady Rahl,” Kahlan reminded, a bit more sharply than she’d planned.

The Mord-Sith bowed her head curtly. “Forgive me. I will take you to her; it would not do for my Lady to wander the People’s Palace alone.”

As they set off down the halls together, Kahlan found herself forcefully slowing her steps once again. She need distraction. “My chambers are guarded without my presence?” she asked idly.

“Of course, Lady Rahl. There are still those who are loyal to Darken Rahl, even after his supposed death, who would lie in wait for a chance to do his will.”

“Such as?” Kahlan prodded.

“The Third Battalion was the pride of the Lord Rahl,” she said cautiously. “There are rumors circling that Darken Rahl will return and retake his throne by your death, and the soldiers are doing their part to ensure those rumors spread as truth.”

Kahlan sighed. Here was the first hint of the opposition she had so much expected. She had never been more disappointed in being right. “And what do you think?” Kahlan asked. The phrasing of her reference to Darken’s “supposed” death had not escaped her.

“I think my Lady Rahl both possesses and deserves the bond,” she answered without pause. “Those are not the only rumors being spread. Many think that you would not have been able to take the bond at all if you were not meant to have it. People are saying that you are D’Hara’s future in the form of flesh and blood. That you will bring rain to the deserts of Azrith. D'Hara knows that you did indeed come to us in a time of great need.”

That brought a raise to Kahlan’s brow and a silence to their conversation. She hadn’t expected her little seeded rumor to spread so quickly. Berdine and Raina had done well before they departed. Having been unable to make such a distinct promise, Kahlan decided subterfuge was in order. Should such a seemingly impossible event, a legend in the making, come to pass, it would seal her position and influence over D’Hara like nothing else could. If it didn’t, well, it was just a rumor.

When they arrived in front of an unassuming door with a grated slot near the top, her Mord-Sith escort wordlessly and meaningfully placed herself at attention beside it. Kahlan paused with her hand on the door; she knew Cara would be on the other side, but she had no idea what she would find otherwise.

Her heart sank when she stepped into a training room— _torture chamber_ , she corrected herself—and it clenched in her chest when she saw Cara stripped naked. She was standing flat on the floor in the center, her back to Kahlan, but her arms were held up above her head by iron chains and shackles. The golden skin of her back and her blonde hair, mussed as it was, were unmistakable. Kahlan hated seeing the welts and bruises scattered liberally across her body; she was almost afraid to imagine what her face looked like.

The tall Mord-Sith responsible for such wounds, holding two silent Agiels in her fists, backed away respectfully when Kahlan entered, causing Cara to rattle the chains in apparent frustration. She spoke in a voice gruff and impatient, saying, “Why did you stop? Who is it?”

“Leave us,” Kahlan told Cara’s torturer. “Wait outside.”

When they were alone, Kahlan steeled herself and circled to face Cara. She was completely aware that Cara hadn’t turned around to face her after hearing her voice, despite being completely capable. The same wounds covered the front of her body; long and angry welts, short stripes of raised flesh, and numerous fresh bruises all marred her formerly perfect skin. Thankfully the Agiel was a relatively clean weapon. There was little blood, and barring a sizable bruise on her cheek and a fresh split in her lip, her face appeared untouched. Though her gaze was locked on Kahlan, her expression was completely blank. She was doubtlessly waiting for her reaction.

Kahlan couldn’t settle on any single emotion in response. She wanted to kill the Mord-Sith that did this to Cara—by confession, if only such a thing were possible—she wanted to shout at Cara for letting her, and she very much wanted to prove to Cara that she could handle this side of her just as well as any other. So she just stood, arms at her sides, trying to decide if she was strong enough to have this imminent conversation.

She stepped forward, raising a hand to brush hair from Cara’s brow as she held her gaze, and when her fingers trailed down to her jaw, the Mord-Sith twisted her head and brushed her lips against Kahlan’s skin. She was immediately flooded with an overwhelming sense of relief that nearly stole her breath. Her fears were allayed; she had not dreamt Cara’s confessions. Cara hadn’t changed her mind, she wouldn’t pretend nothing had happened, and she wouldn’t try to take it all back.

“Kahlan…I meant every word,” Cara said quietly. “Including my need to be trained.”

“No one can train you, Cara. I don’t know what this is, but it’s not training.” Kahlan wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt the need to argue definitions, but it seemed wrong that Cara implied she was being…tamed, made docile.

“All the same, I wasn’t lying,” Cara replied.

“You were gone when I woke,” Kahlan said suddenly. “Did you think I would try to stop you?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.” Cara gave a short shrug, as best she could with her shoulders already lightly strained. “And…maybe a little.”

“I trust you, Cara,” she said firmly. Despite her words, Kahlan wasn’t entirely sure she would have let Cara go without protest had she known. She trailed a hand down Cara’s neck, biting her lip as her fingers delicately passed over freshly marred skin between her breasts. “I liked you the way you were,” she sighed. “How are we supposed to have our…second first time when you’re…” Kahlan stepped back, crossing her arms, and gave a vague nod of her chin to indicate Cara’s condition.

“You mean you won’t fall asleep again?” Cara teased, the barest hint of a smirk surfacing.

Kahlan grimaced. Late last night they had tried to consummate their promises to each other with intimacy decidedly less chaste, but she was too exhausted to get very far and ended up falling asleep mid-apology. “Crying makes me tired,” she replied evenly. “Are you…done? Can I bring you down?”

“No, but it shouldn’t take more than two more days.”

“Two days,” Kahlan repeated numbly. “Are you sure it will take that long?”

“I can’t train myself or I’d have it done in far less,” Cara sniffed.

“Torture, not train,” she corrected.

Cara rolled her eyes, rattling the chains meaningfully as she shifted her posture. “This is hardly torture. Torture is supposed to hurt, and nothing Rikka has done to me has been anything more than a tickle. The Agiels aren’t yet capable of much pain.” She raised her head, seeming to search Kahlan’s eyes a little deeper before quietly continuing, “Unlike your touch…the slightest of which sets my skin on fire with the want of you.”

Kahlan felt her heart begin beating faster. “That sounds painful,” she whispered. Never before had she heard anyone put such words to their desire for her.

“In the best way,” Cara said softly.

Kahlan licked her lips and stepped forward to press a short kiss to Cara’s mouth, not at all surprised when the blonde kissed her back firmly, crushing their lips together despite the split in her own, and she felt wetness on her lower lip that she knew was blood from Cara’s reopened wound. When Kahlan stepped back, Cara leaned forward against the chains at the loss of her, her eyes heavily lidded, and Kahlan suddenly experienced a powerful want to deadbolt the door and slide the grate closed.

“Cara,” she whispered, forcing herself to take another step back and running her tongue over her bottom lip, “promise me that I’ll wake up next to you tomorrow morning?”

“I swear it. We’ll be done for the day just before evening devotions.”

Kahlan gave her a small smile. One might think she was speaking of coming home from a day of work, in a field or maybe a forge, not being relentlessly beaten by her own will. Such were the lives of Mord-Sith. “So I’ll see you tonight, then,” she said, finding a reasonably unharmed spot on Cara’s side to lay her hand before parting. Somehow she knew there would always be room for her in between the bruises.

****

D’Hara was not governed by a council or any set of representatives like the Midlands. She spent the rest of the day seeking refuge from thoughts of Cara by speaking with the dozen chancellors, all chosen by Darken Rahl to extend his will into the dull civil matters of running a nation. Kahlan found herself with a most base and somewhat grudging admiration for the way his government was built. It had allowed him to remain above and free of the day-to-day decisions she had so expected while exerting whatever overrides and influence he deemed necessary.

The chancellors were, of course, all as corrupt and dark-hearted as Darken Rahl himself, but like so many other things, she would have to wait to deal with replacing them. For now, she familiarized herself with basic policies and ensured that they would restore the order lost while D’Hara was leaderless; an unstable nation going to war would lose before the first battle was fought.

The devotions served to calm her somehow. As she stood on the open balcony under the setting sun and listened to the chant repeated below her, Kahlan found herself closing her eyes and letting the words soak into her skin. She realized she couldn’t describe the sensation if she tried. Berdine had been right; it was simply unlike anything she had ever experienced. Knowing that the people below her were only a tiny fraction of all those currently on bended knee was both humbling and empowering. It seemed there was nothing she couldn’t do with her people behind her, and there was nothing she could do without them.

When it ceased, Kahlan took a deep breath and turned, surprised to see Cara behind her. She was standing quickly, appearing slightly guilty at having been caught kneeling. Kahlan just gave her a half smile and gestured for her to walk with her. “I see she left your face alone,” she remarked. Other than her darkened bruise and lip, Cara would nearly appear normal—the neckguard Kahlan hadn’t seen in months robbed her of what little normalcy remained. She could only assume Cara was trying to hide her wounds from her; the blonde would hardly care what anyone else thought. Still, the sight of her in full Mord-Sith attire was strange, and Kahlan wondered if she was going to keep wearing it after the bruises faded.

“I instructed her to,” Cara replied. “I thought you might want that.”

“Thank you,” Kahlan said softly. “I know you won’t scar, but.”

“I won’t be salving anything until it’s over,” Cara said thoughtfully. “It’s a pain with so many welts.”

“Does it hurt?” Kahlan asked. Cara shot her a withering glance at such an insulting question, but it twisted into a smirk when Kahlan’s own lips curled into a small smile and gave away her jest.

Once they were alone in Kahlan’s chambers, Cara surprised her by heading straight for the bed and throwing herself down on her back with a loud sigh. “Thank you for not being angry.”

Kahlan took a cross-legged seat beside her sprawled out form, absently spreading the sheets flat around her. “Why would I be angry? You told me it was something you needed to do.”

Cara rolled her shoulders and twisted her neck from side to side with a grimace. “Because if I saw you with a fraction of the marks I have,” she said casually, “I would kill the first hundred people to cross my path and maim the next thousand. And after that, I would rip the world apart.”

Kahlan raised her brow at the thought. “I believe you,” she offered. “It’s not easy for me to see you hurt, Cara, but like I said, I trust you.”

Cara blinked as if struck by a thought. “Do I need to send Rikka away? To a temple? So you…”

“No,” she sighed. “I’ve no desire to take vengeance on Rikka for something you asked her to do.”

“Ordered,” Cara corrected. “And it took nothing less, especially after your visit. She said the look you gave her when you left was…I can’t remember the word. Chilling, maybe.”

“I didn’t gave her a look,” Kahlan groused. “Not on purpose, anyway.” It took her a moment to realize why Rikka might expect retribution from Kahlan. “Cara? Does Rikka…does anyone know…did you tell.”

Cara raised herself up on her side, her brow knit in confusion, and stared at Kahlan before understanding dawned. “No,” she answered softly. “Everyone knows you and I traveled together during the war against the Keeper, and they know that I am the favorite Mord-Sith of their new Lady Rahl. But if we—”

“Wait,” Kahlan interrupted. “My favorite Mord-Sith?”

Cara shrugged. “A self-appointed title of sorts. I trusted you wouldn’t mind terribly; it gives me leadership over my Sisters of the Agiel.”

“All of them?” she inquired.

“Every one,” Cara confirmed, lowering herself back down into her former sprawl.

“Good. I need someone I can trust in that position. And I suppose it’s true, after all.”

Cara suddenly appeared quite satisfied with herself. “With that said, if we continue sleeping together, people will have no choice but to assume that we are…lovers.” She said the word with such a smirk that Kahlan found herself mirroring it, as if they were sharing in conspiracy.

“Then let them. But as of right now they would be wrong,” Kahlan reminded her pointedly.

“We already—”

“That doesn’t count,” Kahlan interrupted. “I wasn’t right to do that then, and I said horrible things afterward. I want another chance, and this time I’ll say nothing the morning after except how beautiful and adorable and lovely you are.”

This time Kahlan managed to keep her face straight and Cara appeared genuinely concerned. “You’d better not,” she muttered.

Kahlan flashed her a smile before leaning down and pressing a single kiss to her cheek. “I won’t if you exhaust me,” she whispered.

Cara closed her eyes and groaned, and Kahlan felt satisfaction of her own at her words having their desired effect. But then Cara cleared her throat and raised herself to sit across from Kahlan, and her expression became clouded with sudden worry. “Why do you want me in your bed?” she asked softly.

Kahlan felt the smile fall from her own face, and the air between them changed from one of teasing and jesting to something entirely different. “What do you mean?” she whispered.

Cara rolled her jaw for a moment, absently bringing a finger to prod at her only visible bruise before answering. “I didn’t think you truly enjoyed physical intimacy,” she said bluntly. “I am concerned that part of you is…” She gestured helplessly at the air around her, and Kahlan knew it wasn’t for lack of words. She simply didn’t want to say it.

“Wrong,” Kahlan supplied. “New, misplaced, and a result of things that have happened to us instead of want for you.” Cara looked away, but the slightest nod confirmed her guesses.

Kahlan spent a moment in thought, trying to discover how best to explain this to Cara. “Things are different for Confessors,” she began quietly, “but you know that much already. I am very much like any other woman. I just became very good at holding things back—I had to be. Once I lost my Confessor magic, I didn't know what to do with my newfound freedom. Not at first. Especially since such freedom was mixed with such pain. And you received the brunt of my confusion, and I am sorry for that. I am sorry because…” Now it was Kahlan that looked away, but she steeled herself to continue. “…I didn't truly want you. Not then. When I let you have me, that night in the field, I did so for the wrong reasons. I gave myself to you only because _you_ wanted _me_ , because I thought you had earned it. It was only a repayment in my mind,” she confessed softly. “I am sorry.”

Cara’s jaw clenched so tight it had to hurt, and she turned her head to stare at the far wall, unmoving. Kahlan bowed her own, focusing on her hands in her lap. She hated this—she instantly wondered if she should have kept these things secret—but she wanted Cara to know the whole truth. To understand how much of a change, how much good, Cara had wrought in her.

“Things are different now,” Kahlan stressed. “What you are so afraid of, Cara? It happened that night. It's in the past, and I recognize it as wrong because I know that what I want now is right. I swear it, and I will say this as many times and in as many ways as it will take for you to believe me. Trust me when I tell you that I want you, Cara, because of what you mean to me, but also because I am very much…attracted to you. I knew it from the moment I kissed you last night, and truthfully, it’s been difficult thinking of anything else since.” Kahlan reached for her hand, waiting until green eyes would risk coming back to her own. “I’m sure, now, of what I love about you,” she said softly, firmly, and earnestly as she shifted a little closer to Cara, searching her gaze. “I love the way your hair tickles my skin sometimes, how it mixes with the scent of your leather, when we’re in bed together. I love how I am truly safe, and whole, when I’m in your arms. I love feeling your breasts on my back, Cara, when you hold me close to sleep. I love your warmth against my own body, I love how soft your lips are against mine, how your eyes always tell me things your words don’t, how your skin—”

“That’s a lot of things to learn to love in one day,” Cara interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I haven’t only loved those things since yesterday, Cara,” she said, risking a small smile. “I think we both know that. Forgive me?”

Cara spent a moment in thought, not very long, then nodded, looking at once decided and confused. Kahlan found out why mere heartbeats later when the blonde pushed forward and stole a kiss, the urgency of which flooded Kahlan with a rush of desire. Her fingers reached behind the stays of Cara’s neckpiece, and Kahlan collapsed back onto the sheets, pulling Cara’s leather and the Mord-Sith wearing them down over her. Their lips met over and over, clinging in each separation, and Kahlan passed her thumb over the bruise on Cara’s cheek, sighing as she separated them slightly. “You’re hurt,” she whispered against her mouth. “I don’t want you to be hurt for this. I can’t…”

“Kahlan, I’m…” The Mord-Sith interrupted herself by yanking away and looking completely bewildered, staring wide-eyed down at Kahlan. “That tingles,” she said, her brow furrowing.

Kahlan stared back at her, just as lost from the sudden strange warmth in her own lips and her hand, until she noticed the bruise was gone from Cara’s face and her lower lip was back to its soft and full self. “Oh,” she said quietly, pressing a finger experimentally against her cheek. “I think I…”

“Did you heal me?” Cara asked, her tone nearly accusatory. If not for the light smirk that followed she might look insulted.

Kahlan bit lightly on her own lip. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to.”

To her surprise, Cara simply sat up and reached behind her neck to work on loosening her neckguard. “Well,” she sniffed, “I am not waiting two more days for this. If you have to finish what you started so I can finish what _I_ started, so be it.”

Kahlan gave her a smile and pushed herself up as well. “Turn around for me?”

They stripped Cara to her skin, Kahlan forcing herself to stoicism as Cara revealed her body painted by black and blue. “Why so many bruises?” Kahlan asked, having waited to ensure her voice wouldn’t betray her.

“The Agiels begin nearly dead,” Cara replied. “Their ability to inflict pain with a softer touch, to so easily raise welts, comes later. Well, soon.” After tossing her leather to the foot of the bed, Cara edged herself up to relax with her head on a pillow. “How are you going to…”

She appeared almost nervous, and Kahlan gathered her hair over one shoulder before leaning down to give her a reassuring kiss. “I think…like that,” she answered softly.

Cara whispered, “Oh,” and Kahlan began her slow journey down Cara’s tortured body. She kissed her way down her neck despite the lack of bruises, if only to show Cara that there was more than one purpose to this. Her hands each traveled over Cara’s upper arms, leaving flawless golden skin behind them, as her lips moved across her chest. The welts across her breasts melted away under her mouth, warm with a slight tingle of its own as her magic left her, and Kahlan smiled before she paid unneeded attention to their peaks, caressing with touches of her tongue. She loved how Cara’s stomach flexed under her kisses as she ran hands over her sides, and she drew a shudder from the Mord-Sith with a lengthy and firm kiss, somehow chaste but full of promise that wasn’t, to the lips of her sex. After traveling down her thighs, kissing away the blemishes one by one, she finished with firm strokes down her legs, watching in no small wonder of her own as her heated palms erased Cara’s hurt.

She stretched out over Cara’s body, loving the way Cara seemed languid with eyes half-closed, lost in her attentions, and whispered in her ear, “Turn over. I want to be able to clutch at your back.”

Cara smiled, with no trace of a smirk, and reached for her face to press a kiss to her mouth before rolling over with her head turned to the side. Kahlan realized she was using this as an opportunity to apologize for the hurt she herself had caused, for she knew there was far more of it than Cara had nodded her forgiveness for mere moments ago. Maybe, eventually, Kahlan could finish her confessions, but this would do for now. Cara might not have even let her; it was no small wonder that she was allowing this to begin with.

The blonde was every bit a trained fighter, and as Kahlan worked her way down Cara’s bruised back, she was in wonder of how such smooth muscle under skin came across as so sensual, so feminine, so worthy of her want. Even if she would never be allowed to say it, Kahlan would think it to herself as often as she wanted. Cara was truly beautiful. She reached her lower back, and the Mord-Sith took deep and slow breaths as she fearlessly trailed her lips across the soft skin of her backside, finishing with a few well-placed kisses on the backs of her thighs and calves before sitting up.

“Falling asleep, Cara?” she asked gently, making sure her smile was evident in her voice.

The blonde twisted around on the sheets to look at her, settling onto her back. “Hardly. You missed a spot.”

“Oh?”

She followed Cara’s beckon to her, smiling against her lips before kissing them. She laid herself over Cara, breast to breast with her thigh meaningfully placed between Cara’s own, and the Mord-Sith moaned into her mouth as Kahlan kissed her soundly. When Cara deftly rolled them over, flipping their positions on the sheets, Kahlan let herself be pinned by the warm weight of her, making good on her promise and clutching at the naked skin of Cara’s sides and back as Cara took her mouth in turn. She tried to pull her somehow closer still, but she was also very much holding onto her; it was almost as if she was afraid Cara would try to leave. But Cara tried no such thing; instead their open-mouthed kisses turned deep, and the taste and heat Kahlan found against Cara’s tongue stole her senses as things quickly turned rushed and feverish.

“I’m still dressed,” Kahlan reminded her breathlessly, hating how she had to stop kissing Cara in order to speak.

Cara grunted her disapproval. They discovered together that Kahlan’s new and regal attire was much easier to get out of than either of her older dresses, but as Cara’s hand wandered over her newly bared skin to reach between her thighs, Kahlan found the teasing comment died in her thoughts before it could leave her otherwise-occupied tongue. There was one thought that persisted, that brought a feeling of relief with the overwhelming and heated desire coursing through her veins and gathering deep inside her. That there was a deeper purpose to this, that even after this was over she could kiss Cara and mean it, that neither of them would have to hide or apologize for what they wanted or felt. As Kahlan arched her body up into Cara’s, pressing her head back into the pillows, as a soft moan rose from her chest at Cara’s skilled attentions, and as Cara sucked a kiss from her shoulder and pressed another to her throat, Kahlan knew that they were making love.

****

Cara gently nudged her into wakefulness the next morning, and it seemed far, far too early. “You may want to cover yourself,” she murmured, nodding at the doors from which the knock originated. Morning sunlight was streaming through the bank of windows, throwing wide stripes of yellow light across their bedchamber, and Kahlan blinked back sleep as she pulled up sheets to cover her body.

“Who is it?” she asked groggily.

Cara informed her that it was merely breakfast before shouting permission to enter. The two serving maids stayed just long enough to place their meal by the bed, and after declining their offer to help her bathe, Kahlan graciously sent them on their way.

Her Mord-Sith bedmate, who of course had made no such attempt at modesty, didn’t even wait until they were gone before crawling across the sheets to retrieve the tray of fruit, placing it between them on the bed and relaxing on her side with a sigh. Upon catching Kahlan’s helpless and lingering glances at her naked form, she apparently couldn’t resist a teasing smirk. “Does the Lady Rahl wish for breakfast of a different sort?”

Kahlan promptly pushed up onto her side and threw a pillow at her none-too-gently, somewhat glad it landed to cover Cara’s thighs. She cleared her throat and reached for a piece of fruit, meaningfully staring into Cara’s eyes before popping it in her mouth. “You don’t need to be so gentle with me,” she offered at length. “I won’t break. And I know you’re not used to being so careful with your lovers.”

Cara shrugged. “Maybe, eventually, we can. But for now, it helps me.”

Kahlan spent a few moments trying to decipher the half-thoughts Cara gave her, and although she was loathe to risk delving into possibly serious subjects this early in the morning, she decided it might be important enough to warrant a question. “Helps you what?” she asked gently.

Cara gave her a look of warning, but Kahlan simply nodded. “Helps me keep things separate and different,” Cara answered with a sigh. “In my mind. I don’t want to forget how much so you are.”

She knew Cara was referring to past lovers, but the thought that followed gave her sudden pause. “Darken,” she said softly, almost immediately wishing the word hadn’t left her.

Cara gave a single wordless nod.

“Was it this very bed?” Kahlan whispered. If such a thought was so disturbing to her, change of sheets or not, she couldn’t imagine what it was like for Cara.

Another nod. “Kahlan, I need you to understand something,” she said. “I once told you that it was an honor to be chosen by the Lord Rahl. It was true, and as such I have hardly ever been taken against my will. The memories I have are not nightmares; I just wish to keep them far away from thoughts of you.”

Kahlan doubted it would be the last time she wished they could live elsewhere, away from such shadows of Cara’s past. But she was also determined not to let such thoughts ruin their nights together, or the new memories she hoped to make with Cara. “I think I understand,” she said, following with a sad smile. “But I have no memories of Richard in that way,” she offered. “Despite…everything.” It was definitely too early to go into details of all their near-trysts and what Richard had shared with her of their one eventual night together while she was so literally torn. It would always be too early, she quickly realized. Some things very much needed to stay in her own thoughts.

Cara just grunted and they continued their piecemeal breakfast together. “Oh,” Kahlan said suddenly. “I never did tell you. I nearly brought down the throne room yesterday.”

“Oh?” Cara inquired casually.

“I was frustrated with the D’Haran army’s excuses for leadership. Remember how Alric’s Han responds to need and emotion? I think I nearly caved in the ceiling somehow. People could have died,” she added, narrowing her eyes at Cara’s nonchalance. A thought came to her before Cara had a chance to reply. “What if…Cara, the wisps told me that the darkness in me would never go away. What if that’s why I got so angry over nothing? What if it makes me do something?”

“I don’t think the wisps know the future,” Cara responded. “And they don’t know you like I do. You’ve never had much patience for small-minded men, Kahlan. I wouldn’t be so quick to blame any change in yourself.”

Somewhat cowed, Kahlan looked down at the tray between them. “You’re right,” she admitted. “Still, I’d like to be more in control of this.”

“Berdine could likely help you,” Cara ventured. “She always enjoyed training wizards and sorceresses; I’d bet she knows more about magic and its use than most people with it. Not that she would train you in…that way,” she clarified delicately.

“And who better to risk mistakes with than a Mord-Sith?” Kahlan mused. “I can’t hurt her. Cara, you’re amazing,” she said, a sudden smile growing on her face.

After enduring a kiss on her cheek, Cara rolled her eyes at the chaste affection. “She and Raina likely won’t be back for a couple days,” she reminded Kahlan. “Will you leave the Palace intact until then?”

“I think so. Cara…did I lengthen your training? By healing you?”

“No,” Cara assured her. “The Agiels can’t exactly tell the difference. Though I may have a hard time convincing Rikka to continue if I explain. It is a loyal Mord-Sith’s worst fear to displease their Master Rahl.”

“Oh. Do I need to talk to her?”

Cara shrugged. “I’ll just make her more afraid of me than you. For now.”

“My favorite, fearsome Mord-Sith,” Kahlan teased. Cara grimaced, but might have looked just a little proud.

****

She was mildly concerned at just how quickly it had come to this. The hundred members of the Third Battalion stood before her in the open and sunlit courtyard, grim-faced and silent. General Tavert, at her side, had ordered them here once Kahlan decided she needed to address this issue before it became unmanageable. The battalion lieutenant stood before his men at proud attention, and Kahlan, after throwing a sideways glance at her captains lining the near wall, stepped forward to him.

“Be aware that you will answer for every one of your men,” she said calmly. Upon receiving the slightest nod in understanding, she continued, “It has come to my attention that your battalion refuses to accept the authority of their Lady Rahl and has been willfully sowing discontent, claiming that my death is all that would be needed for the return of Darken Rahl from the grave. Do you deny this?”

“My men only claim the truth,” he answered, his lips curled in the slightest sneer. “The Underworld cannot keep the true Lord Rahl from his rightful place as the Master of D’Hara. He returned once; he will do so again.”

Kahlan let an amused smile show. “The Underworld cannot keep him?” she repeated drily. “Your former master served the Keeper, not the other way around. I would think it exceedingly obvious that no one will be returning from the dead regardless. The Veil is repaired, and there is no power left in existence great enough to tear it. You have been spreading untruths damaging to the unification of D’Hara during wartime, and you and your men hereby admit to committing treason against your nation and your Lady Rahl.”

She knew that Richard had once refused to kill these very men. He would have found a peaceful solution, but she was not afforded such luxury. Kahlan stood back and raised her voice to address every man before her. “Your punishment is death,” she called out. “Darken Rahl will be most glad to accept your continued service in the Underworld.” The men didn’t look remotely fazed, and Kahlan was keenly aware that the occupants of the courtyard consisted of a few Mord-Sith, her general and captains, and one hundred soldiers with nothing to lose. It was, however, not entirely unplanned.

“If any among you,” she continued, “value your lives beyond your service to a dead man, you have only to separate yourselves from your fellow traitors. Come forward and swear fealty to me, renew your vow to protect your nation, and I will spare your life.”

Not a single man came forward from his peers. Again, not unexpected. Any hint of such thoughts would likely have been dealt with from within with punishment equal to that she was assuring. Still, she needed to make sure these men died by their own choice. Her eyes scanned the myriad faces before her, noting the sudden twitches, the clenching of jaws, and the slow and casual lowering of hands to belts. They were forbidden their swords, but Kahlan knew knives were easily hidden. She motioned furtively behind her back and heard Tavert stepping away to join the captains as she’d requested.

“None of us will renounce our fealty to Lord Rahl,” the lieutenant said harshly, spitting on the ground before him. “D’Hara is nothing without him.”

Kahlan raised her brow. “The manner of a scorned lover is unbecoming for such a man of your stature, lieutenant.”

The man’s eyes narrowed in sudden rage. “For the true Lord Rahl!” he shouted.

Such was their apparent signal. Weapons glinted in the sun as the men surged forward, roaring in kind, and Kahlan focused her mind and lifted both palms before her. Her Han responded to her call, to her need, and time almost seemed to slow as she felt the tingling heat and crackling spark between her hands.

****

“You could have simply ordered them executed, Lady Rahl,” General Tavert mentioned to her.

“There are two kinds of D’Harans,” Kahlan responded, turning a sharp corner as they walked the halls together. “Those who accept my rule and those who harbor doubts, or worse, plans. We cannot go to war so fractured.”

“A more personal example then,” Tavert ventured, running a hand over his graying, short-cropped hair in thought. “Which is why you wanted the captains and Mord-Sith present.”

Kahlan nodded. “More importantly, I need D’Hara to know I am not afraid to do what is necessary, and that I will not ask anything of anyone that I wouldn’t do myself. There are two further kinds of people within the latter, two kinds of doubts. Those who believe I will change too much, and those who believe I won’t change enough.”

“D’Hara is a proud nation,” Tavert said carefully. “We are resistant to change as a people. Tradition is—”

“I’ve traveled with a Mord-Sith,” Kahlan interrupted. “I’m fully aware of the role of tradition, and truthfully, the Midlands are not so different in that regard.” She slowed and stopped suddenly, with Tavert and her escort of two Mord-Sith stopping in kind. “Darken Rahl was a black-hearted tyrant,” she said, her voice quiet to ensure that Tavert would pay attention to her words. “The people of D’Hara will come to learn that tyranny is not the only leadership this world has to offer. Earlier today I ensured that I will earn the respect of those who doubted my strength, my resolve, and my fearlessness. Soon, D’Hara will also know that I am also capable of kindness, of mercy and compassion.”

Tavert raised his brow at this, as if he were genuinely unsure that such a thing was wise. “If my Lady Rahl so wishes,” he said. “You should know that D’Hara does not expect such things of its leaders, and such knowledge may damage whatever reputation you built today within the ranks of your army.”

Kahlan knew she had chosen well. The tall man before her was not afraid of challenging her, of pointing out possible mistakes, but did so with tact and respect. Such a man was worth his weight in gold pieces during war. “Fear is not the only motivation, or even the best,” Kahlan assured him. “It’s my intention to let both the army and the citizens choose their own reasons to follow me.”

Tavert bowed his head and pounded a fist to his chest. “My Lady Rahl is truly wise,” he said. Kahlan accepted his salute with a curt nod and they continued down the seemingly endless corridor. “How do you plan on presenting this…other side of your rule?” Tavert asked curiously. “If I may ask.”

“You may, but I cannot answer. I’m unsure myself,” Kahlan confessed. “I need a way to speak with the true might of D’Hara—its people, those who work for their daily survival.” She had an idea, but it was too young in her mind to speak of.

“I’m sure my Lady will think of something,” Tavert said gravely. It was hardly an offhanded dismissal; his tone suggested he truly believed it.

****

Cara’s neckguard was back in place that night, and as the Mord-Sith relaxed in an oversized chair in front of the roaring fireplace, Kahlan paced the thick rug before it, keenly aware that Cara was waiting for her to speak. “I killed them,” she finally burst out. “Every single one. A hundred men, Cara, and I didn’t even feel tired afterward. It was sickening. They screamed when the lightning hit them, and it passed from one man to the next, and before I knew it they were all dead before me. Some of the closest to me were charred and…smoking. Cara,” she sighed. “I wish I hadn’t.”

Cara was quiet for a moment, tugging absently on the tips of her hair—something Kahlan knew she never did unless was truly deep in thought. “So you didn’t _want_ to kill them,” she said at length.

“No,” Kahlan said, flopping down in the next chair beside her. “If there had been another way…but it made too much sense. It accomplished too much, not the least of which was legitimately deserved justice and the removal of a threat.”

“Then you don’t need to worry,” Cara said gently. “Your wants haven’t changed, Kahlan. I know you’re worried about a change in you that you call your darkness, about what you think you have or might become, but I promise you that the part of you that matters most is still very much the same.”

“How can you be so sure?” Kahlan asked, quietly amazed at how perceptive Cara sometimes revealed herself to be.

Cara cleared her throat nervously. “Because, I don’t have a list, but that part of you…it’s one of the things I love about you. I would know if it changed.”

Kahlan hoped the firelight hid her sudden blush, but she couldn’t keep the soft smile from her face as she bowed her head. If she felt so much more for Cara after two days of this newfound knowledge, she found it hard to imagine what she would be feeling after a week, or a month, with Cara both at her side and in her heart.

A knock sounded, breaking short her wondering, and Cara wordlessly rose to answer as Kahlan stood before the mantle of the hearth. Berdine and Raina entered, looking exhausted and very much like they were bearing bad news. Indeed, that they had returned so soon could mean nothing less.

Kahlan sighed as her eyes passed between them both. “Speak.”

“The armies of the Midlands are very much ahead of schedule,” Raina said somberly. “We must meet them in a matter of days or we will be overrun, and we may be so regardless.”

She heard the words, and with them, the war began. Bitter reality came crashing down to weight her shoulders and her mind was flooded with grim thoughts she had hoped to postpone, if only for a couple days more. There was no time left for falling in love.


	10. Chapter 10

The moon seemed to be casting a different light than it ever had before as Kahlan parted the flaps of their tent and stepped outside. She threw a glance back, to Cara’s still shape under the bedding, and didn’t leave until she was sure she had seen her chest rise and slowly fall in sleep. The sand slid and gave way under her boots as she took pause a few paces away, standing amid the seemingly endless rows of tents of her army. But Kahlan knew they weren’t endless, and thus their number was not enough.

The air was dead and still as she raised her face to the starlit sky, wondering, not for the first time, if things should be different somehow. If it was a misstep that had led her down this path. If this path was wholly and entirely wrong. When she had walked among the soldiers before sunset, those that weren’t stricken into silence by her presence were speaking with each other of simple things—of women and wine, of glory and skill in battle, and of their families. It was wrong.

Where were these men before? When she had killed so many D’Harans at Richard’s side, none of them existed beyond their status as a threat to him who she was sworn to protect. The reach of their swords was her only concern. And soon, she would be saying the same of her former countrymen, allies, and friends. For now she was sworn to protect something else.

Something small was blacking out stars in the sky, approaching their encampment in a straight and slow line, and as she watched it grow closer, Kahlan hated that her allegiance had changed so quickly. She loathed it. It was despicable, and giving it actual thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. All the people that she knew by name, that she’d left behind when she passed under the gates of Aydindril for the last time, would be sickened by her betrayal, and there was no other word for it. And what could she blame? Could she plead that her loss had driven her mad?

Kahlan was not the only one who had lost loved ones. Far from it; it was rare to find a family not untouched by death in some way or another. What gave her the right to so completely and suddenly take up the arms of her enemy? It had been too easy; it was almost as if being exiled by her sister was some last step she might have taken anyway. She took a deep breath, crossing her arms against her chest. It was too late to change her mind, and a short shake of her head did nothing to clear it.

There was a flapping of wings beside her, loud against the silence, and Kahlan turned to see Raina step free of a telltale column of dissipating black smoke. “My Lady,” she said quietly, coming to stand before her with a short salute. “Nothing has changed. They still approach by the same path, and their numbers remain the same.”

“Their numbers remain too many,” Kahlan sighed. “Six to one we’re outnumbered, Raina. There are thousands too many.” She smiled sadly when Raina seemed hesitant to reply. “Forgive me, I know you only desire a good meal and a quiet bed. You may go in search of both.”

Raina bowed her head curtly but didn’t step away. “Outnumbered as we are, I believe if anyone can guide us through this, it is my Lady Rahl.” She turned, admitting in parting, “And a quiet bed is unlikely, I’m afraid. She snores terribly in the days before battle.”

Kahlan sent her on her way with a genuine, if small, smile to match Raina’s own, thankful for the brunette Mord-Sith’s reassuring words and manner. She could only hope her trust was not misplaced.

Her steps took her past one tent after another, and a light and sudden breeze rustled thick fabric against sand—the only sound besides a horse whinnying somewhere nearby. She missed Nick. The massive discrepancy in numbers was entirely unexpected, and no one could think of an explanation. It was true that, with the more tightly packed population of the People’s Palace, the banelings had been able to take more lives from D'Hara than they had from the sprawling Midlands, but it still didn’t make sense. The armies of the Midlands and D’Hara had always, throughout history, been close enough in size to keep one side from being an overwhelming victor. Even the unlikely, but possible, recruitment of Westland wouldn’t account for the size of the Midlands army.

She reached the edge of the encampment and gazed out at the flat and featureless land before her. The dry desert stretched out to the north, endless and vast, but she knew the scrub grass beneath their feet would thicken as they marched further west, toward the southern tip of the Rang’Cora mountains that separated the Midlands from D’Hara. It would likely be well into the next day before she saw a tree that wasn’t gnarled and twisted, barely hanging on to some semblance of life. The barely-fertile plains to the south of the People’s Palace, from which D’Hara scratched its grain and livelihood, were equally flat. And looming in the distance, blocking out stars despite the many leagues between them, rose the palace itself. She’d never seen it quite like this, stretching out across the horizon. That it was in essence a single building never ceased to amaze her. Alric had left quite a lasting legacy, even if he only lived to see its foundation built. Kahlan suddenly imagined what it would look like engulfed in flames from end to end, massive plumes of black smoke dimly lit by raging fire beneath.

A noise behind her stole her attention, and she found herself expecting, wanting, warm hands to slip around her hips, a familiar body to lean into her back, and soft lips to whisper softer words in her ear. When she turned around to be met by nothing at all, she sighed and began the short journey back to her, hoping she could slip between the sheets unnoticed. Romantic thoughts would distract and betray, and she was certain their relationship, young though it was, had missed its chance for such. It was founded on too much hurt.

****

“They’ll be crossing the Kern River before nightfall,” Raina reported formally. “If we keep our current pace, we’ll meet them in the foothills just south of the mountains tomorrow night. They are moving strangely slow, even for an army of their size.”

The early morning sun flooded the command tent as the last of the captains threw aside the flaps and staggered in, causing other occupants to throw arms over their eyes. Kahlan’s jaw tightened. Cara noticed. “Did you sleep well?” the blonde asked him, her tone dangerously smooth, as she stepped to block his path. Her hand strayed suggestively to the Agiels once again on her belt, and it was easy to imagine they had never left. She had continued wearing her neckguard, and had taken up wearing the outer Mord-Sith corset as well. Kahlan hadn’t yet mentioned it.

Luckily for his health the captain understood, quickly turning to Kahlan with a short salute. “My apologies, Lady Rahl.”

Kahlan gave him the slightest nod in answer as he gingerly stepped around Cara to join the others. Turning to Berdine, she asked, “These foothills. How high do they rise?”

“High, my Lady?” she repeated. “They are hills. Tall enough, I suppose. Of course, the farther north we go, the more the hills will begin to resemble the mountains they lead to.”

“Then we meet them farther north,” Kahlan said. “Wherever the hills are deep enough to hide a massive army behind us.”

“We don’t have a massive army,” Tavert pointed out. “They do.”

Kahlan took a deep breath. “True. If we meet them in pitched combat on open ground, things will be decisively straightforward and…predictable.”

“A slaughter,” Raina offered.

“More or less,” Kahlan agreed. “But if we can fight in a place of our choosing, a valley, we can use terrain to our advantage. Their numbers will mean less, our archers can keep the high ground, and most importantly, our own true numbers will stay unclear. They’re likely expecting to march straight to the People’s Palace to begin their siege; we know they haven’t been scouting ahead.”

“We’ll need to pick up our pace,” Cara put forth. “If we’re to make sure we can find such a place before they break from the foothills into the plains.”

Kahlan nodded curtly. “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

****

After a full day's travel, just before sundown, she waited patiently, with Cara fidgeting beside her, for the foot soldiers to finish raising her tent. When the stakes were driven deep and the men—two of them older boys—raised the fabric over the poles, it wasn’t much longer before they emerged from the interior, having placed their belongings inside and unpacked their bedding for them. Kahlan stopped the last of them, likely the youngest, on impulse as they made to leave. He couldn’t be over nineteen. “What is your name?” she asked.

His eyes shot wide as they flew to her hand on his shoulder, and Kahlan carefully withdrew it while he stammered his reply. “I am…I’m Ben, your Lady…my Lady Rahl.” He winced, sighing as he broke her gaze, as if he knew he had just ruined some grand opportunity.

“Thank you for raising my tent, Ben,” Kahlan said gently. “Do you have family back in the People’s Palace?”

Cara groaned softly beside her before ducking inside the tent, and Ben licked his lips nervously. “I…yes. My mother and one of my sisters are…there, still.”

“And your other sister?”

“She’s dead, my Lady. The banelings took her, but she didn’t take the deal once they got her. She was too strong, she always was.” He sounded proud, his speech sure as he stood a little taller. “I know she gave the Keeper what for when he offered it. She was two years younger than me, but she was always strong.”

Kahlan called on something then, something else she was sure had been lost. She took in breath and changed herself, her composure and her expression, and she thought back, reaching deep into memories of the way her own mother looked as she wore the white dress of her station. Such grace, elegance, beauty and power. Her mother had so much of them, and more.

Ben was looking at her as if the chance he’d thrown away was back and offered before him, against all odds, and when Kahlan finally spoke he nearly jumped. “Will you fight for me, Ben?”

“Of course, Lady Rahl,” he answered quickly. “We all will.”

Kahlan smiled gently and shook her head. “You have many a better reason to fight than simply because I’ve asked you to. When you draw your blade in war to take the life of another, do it for your mother, so she may live to see her grandchildren, and for your sister with her. Fight to honor the memory of your sister lost, but never take up your blade in vengeance, or anger. Fight to protect yourself, so that your family and friends may see you in victorious return, and so that D’Hara won’t have to mourn the loss of another son. If D’Hara fights for things such as these, instead of the will of one? We can win this war.”

Ben stared at her, suddenly in awe, and Kahlan’s small smile grew as he stood speechless before her. “Do you have a tent of your own that needs raising, Ben?” she asked, at length.

After a lengthy and firm salute, he departed at a near run, and Kahlan almost walked right into Cara when she turned to enter the tent. She had no idea the Mord-Sith had been watching and listening.

Cara stepped back and had that look on her face, the one that said words were about to bubble forth and she couldn’t stop them. It was a look of hesitation, then resignation, and Kahlan thought she detected a hint of a smirk. “I told you,” the blonde said softly. “Just because you lost your Confessor power doesn’t make you any less the Mother Confessor to people who need one. Because that’s who I just saw and heard. That boy is running to tell his entire battalion every word you said to him, as well as he can remember it.”

Kahlan’s appreciative smile was genuine as she turned to knot the entrance closed. She felt…good. “You did tell me that,” she admitted. “Or you tried, anyway. I stopped you halfway through. I think I wanted…I was going to try something like that before we had to leave so soon.”

“Something like what?” Cara asked curiously.

“Cara, my last act before we left was the execution of the Third Battalion,” she sighed. “I wanted every D’Haran to know they hadn’t traded one tyrant for another. I wanted to walk among the people, where they live and work, and talk to them. I wanted to do…something for them, to prove that I will be different.”

“You don’t need to prove yourself to your people,” Cara said gently. “The bond assured you would have a chance, but it was up to you to do the rest…and you have. Besides, Darken Rahl was no less capable of wooing his people with gifts and promises, meaningless as they were, on the rare occasion his fist proved ineffective. You don’t need a grand gesture; your rule will speak for itself, in time.”

Kahlan knelt on the padded fabric around their bedding and needlessly straightened the edges, smoothing out the sheets and adjusting the pillow. Cara spoke as if they were on a return journey, as if they’d already won a war. She knew the Mord-Sith was watching her, and as she lightly tugged on the corners for the third time, Cara sighed behind her. “Oh,” she said. “You think you won’t have it.”

“Have what?” Kahlan asked, undoing all her work as she fell into a sprawl on her back.

“Time.”

“Six to one, Cara. I think it’s likely that our time consists of tonight and tomorrow.”

“We’ve been in this situation before, you know. Not two weeks ago.”

“Nicci,” Kahlan said softly. Cara wordlessly came to kneel beside her, and Kahlan turned onto her side to raise herself up on her forearm. “It’s not the same situation.”

“No?”

Kahlan shook her head with a sad smile as she gazed up at Cara. “This time, I desperately want to live,” she said quietly. “For entirely selfish reasons.”

“Selfish reasons?”

“Cara, I am falling for you so fast, and so hard,” she confessed. “I don’t want it to be over. I don’t want it to have been for nothing. I want a long future, with you.” The floodgates had been opened in full, and Kahlan was sure her heart had never beat stronger than it did for Cara. Like it seemed to be right now.

The Mord-Sith ducked her head at this, her hands fidgeting at her sides, and cleared her throat awkwardly. “Then we’ll need a plan,” she said at length, somberly. “Better than the one we had last time, and more developed than what you said this morning. I know you can think of something, Kahlan. You’re…smart. It’s why I like you so much,” she said, a slow smirk growing on her face as her gaze drifted down. “The only reason, truthfully. I definitely don’t love you for your perfect breasts, or your soft and perfect hair, or the perfect curve of your hips, or the length of your perfect legs, or the—”

“Cara,” she groaned. “I’m hardly so perfect. And you expect me to think of tactics for war while you’re doing that to me?”

“You very much are. And doing what?” Cara teased.

“Eating me with your eyes and…saying things,” Kahlan breathed. She felt herself becoming flushed, and she suddenly wished she hadn’t interrupted Cara’s little list.

“So I’m distracting you,” Cara sniffed in hopefully-mock offense. “I see. You need to go see Berdine anyway; she’ll be waiting for you. And she tells me you’ve been making progress?”

“None too soon. Though maybe it would be good if I lost control,” Kahlan mused. “I might be able to kill…lots of…the enemy.” She faltered, having nearly said Midlanders. The truth was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

“Yes, well, if you bring the sky and stars down on our heads, I would like your aim to be somewhat accurate,” Cara said, arching an eyebrow.

Kahlan narrowed her eyes. “Don’t change the subject. I liked where our other conversation was going.”

“Hmm?”

“Would you like to know what I hate about the desert and the plains?” Kahlan asked, somewhat abruptly.

“The sand?” Cara offered, unfazed. “I know it gets in my leathers sometimes. It makes me want to kill things. More so than usual.”

“There are no trees,” Kahlan said softly, pausing to bite her lip. “And no walls. Nothing for you to press me up against like you did the morning we left. There was just something about it. The way you held me up to the door and…took me, and kissed my neck? I want that again.” Her veins coursed hotter with the memory.

The blonde’s mouth formed the word _oh_ , and amazingly, she stood with a deep breath. Kahlan pursed her lips, thoroughly disappointed in the lack of Cara’s body over her own. How much clearer did she have to be? “Or something like it,” she added hopefully.

“After,” Cara said, making to leave the tent. “Berdine is waiting and this is important, Kahlan.”

The rebuke might have stung if Kahlan’s mind hadn’t slipped into places completely lacking in reason and structured thought. “I want to taste you,” she called out softly, wincing. If someone had been standing near their tent, they just might have heard.

That didn’t matter once Cara stopped dead in her tracks.

****

Once night fell, the command tent served as a place for Kahlan and Berdine to work on consciously controlling the heavier magics of her Han. It was by far the biggest, capable of comfortably holding a score of people, and while no accidents had taken place yet, it had the largest room for error while affording them some privacy. Cara looked closely at Kahlan as they drew in reach of the tall torch shoved in sand outside the entrance. “You’re still flushed,” she observed with a sigh. “Didn’t I…”

Kahlan raised a hand to her cheek self consciously. She _was_ still rather warm; they had left their own tent as soon as they could dress. “You did,” she assured. “But it’s not like we’re a secret, Cara.”

Cara nodded toward the shadow moving inside the lit tent. “It is far and away within your right, but I thought you might not wish Berdine to know you made her wait because you wanted to…” Amazingly Cara censored her words, instead gesturing vaguely between her legs.

Chastised, Kahlan nodded and crossed her arms, raising her face to the darkened sky. “We’re doing that often, aren’t we?” she asked softly. “Is it…irresponsible of me? To spend so much time thinking of you, being with you, making love with you. On the eve of a war.”

“I’ve quite lost count between the nights and mornings,” Cara admitted. “But every time I’m with you is like living a dream to me, Kahlan.”

A slight breeze crossed Kahlan’s face, and she smiled. Romantic words. Maybe they hadn’t missed their chance after all; maybe it wasn’t too late, and maybe falling in love was good use of whatever time they had left. “Mord-Sith don’t dream,” she teased. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“You are an exception to everything I am,” Cara said quietly. “And I am equally cursed with thoughts of you, so it’s not for me to say.”

Kahlan’s smile turned shy and she ducked her head for a moment, then stepped forward and kissed Cara’s cheek, as if their lips had not been everywhere on each other’s skin mere moments before. “Did you know that you are everything to me?” she whispered. “There could be nothing else in this world but you, and I would be content.” She’d been avoiding putting words to such thoughts, despite their overwhelming presence as of late.

Now it was Cara that lowered her eyes as Kahlan stroked fingers through her blonde hair. “Let’s pretend,” Kahlan said suddenly, “that we live through the next few days, and then the next month or year. Would you keep letting your hair grow, to braid it? The way it once was? You haven’t cut it in months.”

“Would you mind?” Cara asked in turn, plainly.

Kahlan touched the corset around her waist, then hesitantly moved both hands to cup Cara’s neck above the rigid collar piece around it. “If you do, and you keep wearing these, and now that you have your Agiels back, you’ll be Mord-Sith again in every way. It’s…selfish of me, and maybe silly, but I feel afraid of losing you to that.”

“It’s very silly,” Cara admonished sternly. “You won’t lose me to anything as long as I draw breath. But,” she continued, her voice softening, “which would you rather I forgo? The neckpiece or braid?”

Kahlan stepped back, as if to appraise her appearance in the torchlight, while Cara waited somewhat nervously. Aside from the fact that she had grown used to the blonde’s cut, now somewhat past shoulder length, and loved the way it complimented her eyes and framed the strong features of her face, she suddenly realized there was a certain appeal to such a militant uniform somewhat concealing the pleasing swells and curves of Cara’s body. She told herself it was definitely not a matter of having said curves all to herself; it was just that she wore the full Mord-Sith leather very well. “You look rather striking,” Kahlan said softly. “Just as you are.”

Cara nodded in acceptance as a slow smirk grew on her face. “You just don’t want to have to braid my hair in the mornings,” she accused lightly.

“I would be nothing but glad to do so,” Kahlan sighed. “Because it would mean that we have mornings together to spend…”

“Kahlan,” she chided gently. “It was a jest. But I have a question for you, about this possible future of ours.”

“Oh?”

“How long could you last with our current furious pace of lovemaking?” Cara purred. “Days? Weeks? A month?”

“You think I can’t keep up,” Kahlan accused with a smirk of her own. “I do believe you’re forgetting how many years I have to make up for.”

Cara laughed. It was genuine, if short and quiet, and it made Kahlan’s heart swell in her chest. It was a beautiful sound, all too rare, and it seemed a lifetime since she heard it last. “I can hardly doubt your appetite given the last few days,” Cara informed her. “Only its endurance.”

“Well,” Kahlan said, raising her brow, “I look forward to proving myself to a Mord-Sith.”

Cara looked away, toward the myriad rows of tents and the small cooking fires among them, and seemed to be gathering courage for something. “About that,” she said softly. “You said you were afraid of losing me if I once again embraced all the strictures of the Mord-Sith. Kahlan, you know that I am yours, but…I am also still Mord-Sith. It’s difficult,” she confessed. “When I relax in your presence instead of stand at attention, it’s sometimes by conscious choice. For a Mord-Sith to sit or recline on a bed while the Lord Rahl stood was unthinkable. I served him for many years, and now that I feel the bond in you…” She trailed off, and Kahlan waited while she composed her thoughts to continue. “When I was being trained for new Agiels, and I thought of you near the end, when the pain was greatest, I realized I needed to find a way to fit in…what this is, what I feel, with what I am.”

“Did you?” Kahlan whispered. “Find a way?”

“No,” Cara admitted. “I’m not used to inward thoughts. Things were always clear; I never had a need for such until I started serving Richard. But…I’ll keep trying.”

Kahlan genuinely didn’t know what to say. She was still growing accustomed to being granted such access to Cara’s thoughts, to the workings of her heart and mind. “Thank you,” she said at length. “For telling me that.” She nearly winced. Cara’s eyes darted from side to side, ensuring their privacy, and then she stepped forward to place a solid kiss, not to Kahlan’s lips, but her cheek, somewhere she’d never kissed outside of lovemaking. It was a statement of affection, of trust, and, she realized, very much of understanding at her inability to put words to her feelings. “Thank you for that, too,” Kahlan added softly.

The tent flaps flew open a few paces away and Berdine peered out at them, stealing the reply from Cara’s lips. “I heard someone laugh,” she said flatly, disappearing back inside a moment later.

Cara smirked and tugged Kahlan toward the entrance. “She thought it was you, you know.”

****

They gave up halfway through the night, when Kahlan was too exhausted to continue despite this being their last chance. After dousing the lamps in the command tent, Cara placed a hand on the small of her back as the two began walking back to their own. “I’m sorry,” Kahlan sighed, focusing on placing one foot in front of the other. “I know I can do this, I just needed more time.”

“Magic is tricky,” Cara offered. “Nobody blames you for not mastering your Han in a matter of days. It usually takes years.”

“Cara, you don’t understand. It’s like you said in the cave, until I learn to control it, there has to be both need and want for more powerful things. If I’m torn, if I can’t decide whether I want my foes dead, my Han won’t…work. And I’m already torn.” She admitted the last part softly, in shame, and Cara fell silent.

The blonde still seemed brooding as they reached their tent, and washed their skin of sweat and sand, and as they laid down together, Kahlan wordlessly turned away onto her side. “Don’t,” Cara whispered next to her. “Kahlan, look at me.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, sighing, and then rolled onto her back, meeting Cara’s gaze as the Mord-Sith raised herself on one forearm. “I never said thank you,” Cara said softly. “For saving me. You said you took the bond for me.”

Emotions began their slow turning and twisting in Kahlan’s belly, and Cara seemed to notice. “It’s alright to wish you hadn’t,” the blonde ventured. “I would be more concerned if you didn’t show any regret at all. But what you have done for D’Hara, for my country, as a result, and at such a cost to yourself, to your conscience…Kahlan, thank you.”

Kahlan raised herself on her own side to face her, and she looked down, trying to think of words to explain the anguish of the choice she had already made. “I don’t know if I can do this at all,” she admitted, almost choking on the words. “I can’t kill my sister. I grew up with Dennee, I love her no matter what she’s done. I grew up in the Midlands. I might see people on the field of battle that I know.” Her lip trembled, and the tears that fell were not from a resolute and firm countenance. They were not tears of strength, not at all. She felt her face contort, and she hated it, sitting up to hide her face in her palms as a sob took her. After spending so many weeks avoiding the harshest reality of all, that her sister had become her mortal enemy, it possessed her with blinding and painful clarity.

But the bedding shifted and Cara pulled on her shoulders, and Kahlan let herself fall forward, into Cara’s arms, burying her head into the curve of her neck. Kahlan sobbed openly against Cara’s skin, letting herself break, and Cara waited, petting her head and making soft hushing noises. That the Mord-Sith would do such, for her, broke Kahlan even more.

“You are truly the strongest woman I have ever known,” Cara said softly, running a gentle hand up and down her back as she cried. “I meant that when I wrote it to you. But we can’t be strong all the time. You told me that, back when we were looking for the Stone of Tears. Kahlan, if you let me, I can be your strength when you need it.”

“You already are my strength,” Kahlan whispered into her shoulder, her throat still tight. “More than you know. I couldn’t have come this far without you.”

“You won’t be alone tomorrow,” Cara promised. “I’ll be with you every step you take.”

Kahlan sighed deeply, and sniffled, then collapsed back onto her side. But she held on to Cara’s arm as she fell, meaningfully placing Cara’s hand over her belly, and Cara understood. She wrapped herself around Kahlan, pressing close to her back, just like she used to while she was protecting Kahlan from her dreams. This wasn’t how Kahlan had wanted to spend what might be their last night alive together, in tears of desperation and fear, but Cara was right. At least she wasn’t alone.

****

The idea took shape in her mind over the next morning, and by the time the noon sun was beating down on Kahlan and her army, she had figured out the last piece of the puzzle. She slowed her horse suddenly, sweeping her gaze across the barren landscape. They wouldn’t hit forest unless they traveled far past the coming hills, and into the Midlands itself, but… “I need that tree felled,” she called out, indicating a small and scraggly sapling at their side. “And every one between here and the foothills.”

Tavert and Cara slowed as well, looking at her in question. “My Lady?” the general asked, confused.

“We need firewood,” Kahlan informed them. “Lots of it. Tonight we’re going to ask the Midlands to surrender, and they’re going to do exactly that.”


	11. Chapter 11

Kahlan reined in her mount as she and Tavert crested the first hill, and she paused to survey the landscape before them, slowly sweeping her eyes across the view. “Perfect,” she mused aloud. They were standing atop a rather abrupt change in scenery; in front of them the hills continued in rising swells and deep valleys, progressively greener in the distance, and directly behind them stretched the flattened plains leading to the People’s Palace—though it itself was now beyond sight, shrouded in the haze of distance. The Rang’Cora mountains began just to the north, serving as a glaring reminder that they were directly on the shared border of D’Hara and the Midlands.

“Lady Rahl, do you truly think this will work?” her general asked doubtfully. “Many things must go right, and none can go wrong. And even then, the Midlands might either derive the ruse or ignore it.”

She turned to him with a tight smile. “I don’t know. It’s a slimmer chance than I’ve let on. But the risk is low enough— if they do call our bluff, we’re no worse off than we were before, and if it does work, we’ll have won without any loss of life on either side. Besides, our time would otherwise be spent waiting.”

Tavert’s brow raised a little, and he turned back to the army sprawling in a wide and long line behind them. The dark mass of shapes, soldiers and horses and wagons, was slowly spilling to flatten at the base of the foothills as if they were sand filling an hourglass. “You’re right, as usual,” he conceded. “We should begin. There isn’t much daylight left.”

****

Kahlan passed through the tightly controlled chaos of the hastily built encampment, eventually making her way to the far edge. The wagons, having deposited their former loads of stores and gear, were being prepared with even loads of firewood. Some had already departed and she was surprised to see Mord-Sith mixed in at random with D’Haran soldiers, unloading their fair share of logs from the trundling wagons and tossing them together a few at a time to form small pyres, ready to burn.

Grabbing hold of a passing Mord-Sith, she inquired after Cara’s whereabouts, and the woman nodded tightly in the direction from whence she’d come. Kahlan loosed her and quickened her step. She spotted one of her captains on the way, and after leaving him with instructions to ensure that fuel would be conserved and the fires spread out, she finally spotted Cara.

Her mouth quirked in a small smile despite herself; she’d left no specific instructions with the blonde, but she was lending her own hands to manual labor regardless. Kahlan couldn’t think of what could possibly be possessing her to do such a thing. Cara would be standing tall in the back of the wagon, shouting orders, if anything. She had always preferred keeping her gloves clean unless from blood.

“Mistress Cara,” Kahlan called out, not entirely able to keep incredulity from her tone.

The Mord-Sith looked up and left her wagon and work to make her way in front of her. “Kahlan,” she said evenly. She’d apparently grown to derive some pleasure from being the only one in D’Hara able to address her as such.

Kahlan rolled her tongue inside her teeth, finally bursting out quietly, “What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure the Mord-Sith do their part,” Cara said, shrugging. “I can assure you they did not decide to help of their own accord.” Kahlan narrowed her eyes, unconvinced, and the blonde gave in shortly. “I want this to work,” she admitted. “For…entirely selfish reasons.”

“Oh.” Kahlan blinked, immediately understanding the implication of her words. “Well, they’ll have to make do without you.”

****

The messenger, a solemn man with his long life written in the scars across his face, stood next to Cara and listened studiously to Kahlan’s instruction in the command tent. She was grateful for Cara’s presence; she was about to ask something difficult of him. “And you will tell them,” she finished, “that we wish to discuss surrender. Tell them that D’Hara’s leader requests audience with the Mother Confessor, tonight after nightfall, but do not answer any questions.”

“Understood, Lady Rahl,” he said, pounding his fist to his heart.

“There’s something else—”

Tavert, Berdine, and Raina interrupted her just then, entering the tent all wearing the same grave expression, and they exchanged places with Cara and the messenger as the blonde guided the man outside. “What is it?” Kahlan asked tersely as they lined up across the table in the center.

“They’ve slowed again, my Lady,” Raina said. “It might be halfway through the night, or longer, before our messenger can retrieve a reply or an envoy.”

“They’ve been slowing down since you first scouted them,” Kahlan observed. “At this rate, they would come to a stop before they reach the People’s Palace at all. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“There’s something else,” Raina offered. “I ventured a somewhat closer look instead of staying high in the clouds. There are…small people. They seem to be making up some of their extra numbers.”

“Small people,” Kahlan repeated dubiously. Her gaze swung to Berdine. “I’ve not heard of any such race,” she said, hoping the Mord-Sith could enlighten her.

But Berdine merely shook her head. “None exists. Not unless they’ve been in hiding in the Old World, for millennia beyond count, and happened to choose this time to be recruited by the Midlands.”

“We would have noticed,” Tavert said. A step forward to the table and a finger on the map drew Kahlan’s attention. “The southern tip of D’Hara extends into the path such a force would need to take from the Old World to reach the Midlands. Wherever their numbers came from, it wasn’t there.”

Kahlan leaned forward on the table, staring at the strongly inked lines and lettering in front of her. “I’d hoped to use that exact reasoning to explain our own numbers. The Mother Confessor will know she has us sorely outmatched, though not by how much. Such a display as the one we’re planning would benefit greatly from realistic explanation.”

Berdine raised her brow. “You’re going to tell them you found an army in the Old World?”

“The Old World and our own have been separated for those millennia you spoke of,” Kahlan said. “I wouldn’t count it outside the realm of possibility that such a force exists within it, and my…the Mother Confessor wouldn’t either.” Her near-slip, the reference to her sister as such, was very much the invisible presence in the room that suddenly seemed overwhelming. Only Cara and these three, together forming her makeshift personal council of sorts, knew the details of the situation that had estranged the two of them, but she still preferred not to speak of such things so candidly.

Cara chose that moment to throw the flaps open and step inside, and the mask on her face spoke of hiding something. “We should start planning further,” the blonde stated flatly. “If this fails, and we do have to fight, we can’t be scrambling for battle plans.”

Kahlan looked around her to the others. “She’s right. Raina, show us what you saw from the skies,” she said, nodding at the quill and map on the table. “Cara, a word.”

After stepping outside the command tent, in relative privacy, Cara didn’t even wait for inquiry. “I sent the messenger on his way with the alkalas stone.”

Kahlan sighed. She was sending him to keep secrets from a Confessor; while she’d chosen him because he had only one eye and couldn’t be read, he could still be confessed. But given an alkalas stone, all he would need to do was bite down the moment Dennee’s hand reached for his neck. His life and secrets would be forfeit in mere heartbeats—likely before his request for command could finish leaving his lips. Kahlan looked away from Cara, and then back. She had been prepared to ask him to take his own life if it proved necessary. “I was going to tell him. Cara, I could have…why did you?”

“I know you could have, but now you don’t have to.”

****

As the day drew to a close, the sun was setting the western sky aflame in a mix of oranges and reds and pinks, and after receiving the chanted devotions of her army, Kahlan stood with Cara outside the command tent, watching the way she spoke with Berdine and Raina. She’d never known a Mord-Sith before Cara, and it had been a bit of a strange revelation to discover that some of them were very different from the blonde. Somehow, it had seemed to Kahlan that their training, their breaking at each other’s hands, would ensure their sameness. But while Berdine shared Cara’s seriousness, her thirst and respect for knowledge of all types set her very much apart, and while Raina shared Cara’s fierce loyalty, her sense of humor and open love of things like flying assured her difference from both of them.

She listened as Berdine reluctantly finished the story of her own death during the battle of Palace Ridge, watching as Cara smirked in clear recollection, as Raina laughed and playfully tugged Berdine’s dark braid. When a lull presented itself in their conversation, Kahlan asked them a dangerous question that had been in her thoughts for some time. “What would the Mord-Sith do if this war is won and there isn’t another? If D’Hara no longer needs them?”

Cara bowed her head, but Berdine looked to Raina, who smiled softly before answering, “We are Mord-Sith whether D’Hara needs us or not.”

“You don’t want anything else?” Kahlan pressed. She was holding out a foolish sliver of hope that Cara’s steel-forged sense of identity was also not shared; that other Mord-Sith might have held on to enough of their younger lives to make something of themselves should Kahlan find herself unable to allow their continued existence as Sisters of the Agiel.

Berdine shook her head. “The Mord-Sith had their taste of uselessness during the short time between the bond’s destruction and rebirth.”

“It was wholly depressing, and rather boring,” Raina offered.

Berdine shot her a sharp glance before raising her brow to Kahlan. “Lady Rahl, if I may speak openly and honestly?”

“Please,” Kahlan said.

“You may rob us of our braids, our leathers, and our Agiels, but we will always be Mord-Sith. Don’t rob us of our purpose as well—serving and protecting the Lady Rahl. I don’t know how much you plan to change in D’Hara if we return, if you plan to stop the training of new Mord-Sith, but I would issue a wide warning. Be sure it is D’Hara you save, the country that D’Harans know and love, not a version of it that you wish to see.”

Cara was gazing off into the space between them, arms crossed, as Kahlan looked at her. “I understand,” she said, and meant it.

“And another thing,” Berdine added. “Even if D’Hara enters such an age, no peace is eternal. If such a thing were possible, we wouldn’t be on the brink of a war as we speak.”

Kahlan blinked. That almost sounded like something Zedd would have said. “You’re quite right. Thank you for your words. All of you.”

****

The tents were up and the sunset had surrendered to the night sky some time ago, but it seemed not a single soldier was sleeping. They were huddled around low campfires, talking with each other. Some were sharpening weapons and others were polishing armor, but all of them were waiting for something to happen.

Kahlan stood concealed in the shadows outside her own tent, apart from them all, watching and listening to the words and laughs —some subdued and some raucous—carried on the stilled air. She was doing everything she could think of to avoid loss of life; even if D’Hara was willing, she knew there could be no surrender—a force so large bent on invasion was not meant to quell, suppress, or threaten. It was meant to destroy, to wipe its destination from the face of the world. They were all counting on the smallest chance to avoid such a fate.

It very much felt like they were perched on the edge of the world, on the brink of the end, and yet, somehow, chief among her thoughts were those of life beyond. Thoughts of Cara. Of living with her, growing used to waking up with her, of leading D’Hara with Cara at her side. Of making up for the hurt she’d so blindly put Cara through, of earning whatever feelings Cara had for her. Of loving her. Not making love to her, not loving parts and pieces and things about her, but loving Cara herself. More than she already did.

The softest rustle in their tent behind Kahlan made her close her eyes and nearly hold her breath, and this time she was rewarded. Gloved hands stroked down her sides to rest on her hips as a leather-clad body leaned into her back, and Kahlan sighed in relief as she bowed her head. “I don’t suppose you’d listen if I asked you to rest,” Cara whispered, following with a press of soft lips to her neck.

Kahlan turned around in her arms, and as she looked at Cara, everything suddenly seemed like it might turn out to be alright. “I would listen, but I can hardly sleep,” she replied. “Though…this waiting is going to kill me before the Midlands have a chance.”

“Raina will let us know if and when the messenger is returning. And nobody’s killing you,” Cara chided, stepping back to give her a stern look. “I won’t let them.”

“Bad choice of words,” she admitted.

“Kahlan, you do know that Dennee won’t come?”

“I know she won’t. It’s my hope that she sends one or more emissaries that are easily impressed.”

“Will the moon be too bright?”

Kahlan shook her head. “I’ve been up to the hilltop with Tavert again to check. It looks alright.”

“Mm. Should we light them?”

“No. Like you said, Raina is watching from the skies; we wait for word from her. Cara?”

“Yes.”

“Are you nervous?”

The Mord-Sith looked away. “No.”

It might be a lie, but Kahlan needed to say something else more than seek the truth from her. She cleared her throat in preparation. “I am. But not because of the war. I have something to tell you,” she said bravely.

Cara’s gaze turned piercing as she stepped closer. “Oh?”

“Cara…no matter what either of us want,” she began, dutifully reciting her prepared words, “what we’re trying to make happen, our time in this world may be coming to an end. And there’s something that…I need you to know. I wanted you to know something. Cara, I…” She steeled herself, looking away for a moment while Cara waited patiently. “For what feels like a long time,” Kahlan continued quietly, “I thought I was falling in love with you. Despite everything happening around us.”

“But you weren’t?” Cara ventured softly.

Kahlan quickly shook her head. “No, I was. That’s not what I…Cara, I don’t know when it happened, or how, but I’m already there. I love you already,” she said earnestly, finally holding the blonde’s searching gaze. “I do. I don’t want anything more, right now, than for you to know that. To hear it, and know that I mean it.”

She bit her lip nervously as Cara stepped closer still, her hands rising to rest on her shoulders. “Kahlan, you are still guarded,” she said quietly.

Kahlan looked down then, to her own arms tightly crossed against her own chest. She didn’t even remember placing them there, didn’t notice that she was drawing herself in, and she faltered, her words of protest dying on her tongue as Cara’s gloved hands fell to trace a path across her forearms.

“It might feel like you’re healed,” Cara said gently. “But I am…familiar with the process. It was once my purpose to make sure healing didn’t happen. To make sure that breakings didn’t fade and hope didn’t linger. You loved Richard, Kahlan, and it wasn’t that long ago, no matter what it feels like.”

She felt her jaw tighten at the mention of his name, and she hated that reaction. His memory didn’t deserve it. But this conversation, her confession, was tainted with an unpleasant truth. Kahlan had stopped letting herself feel it; she hadn’t had time, hadn’t let herself experience the ache of that loss in weeks. Not since the night they spent in the field of the night wisps. But Cara was right; it was still there. Richard’s absence wasn’t something a single night of talking, of memories, could fix. Kahlan looked into her eyes, pleading with her to understand. “Cara. I…”

She cut Kahlan off with a firm glance. “Listen to me. I am a patient Mord-Sith. I swear I will be at your side until you trust me, doing whatever I can to help you heal, and…loving you. As best as I know how.”

“Oh…Cara,” she murmured, embracing the blonde as if she could stop the war by squeezing her tight enough. “But I do love you. I’m sure of it. There’s no way that I don’t. Even if we never get the chance for romantic candlelight dinners, or visits to the Falls of Aldermont at sunset. I love you all the same. Cara, how can I prove it to you? That I do?”

She felt Cara’s chest swell against her own with a deep breath and sigh. “You don’t need a grand gesture to prove anything. I believe you. I do…too. Love you, you know.” She cleared her throat suddenly, adding, “I don’t know what else it could be.”

On hearing it, Kahlan closed her eyes and rested her cheek on Cara’s warm shoulder, letting the words repeat in her thoughts. And as sure as she was that Cara was right, that it wasn’t so long ago that her heart belonged to someone who had left this world, she was just as sure now of something else. “That’s because what we have couldn’t be anything else,” Kahlan whispered, caressing the smooth leather of her back. “I trust you, Cara. If we get through this, I will heal. And every day I’m with you, that I spend beside you, you have more of me, and I will love you that much more.”

“And I you,” Cara whispered, such that she could barely be heard. Then she took Kahlan more tightly into her arms, and Kahlan was sure she would never want to leave. She never wanted to be apart from this red leather and the impossible strength, the hidden patience, of the woman inside them. With Cara, the edge of the world, this precipice of existence, wasn’t such a bad place to be.

“Kahlan?”

“Yes?”

“You do know that I have no desire for romantic candlelight dinners.”

Kahlan smiled. “I know.”

“None,” the blonde added. “At all.”

“I know.” She bowed her head into the curve of Cara’s neck, sighing in frustration as she pressed lips to her leather. “I can’t kiss you here anymore,” she whispered. “Your new armor. Or old. It’s in my way.”

They released each other just enough to share a meaningful kiss by mouth instead, and it wasn’t long before Cara proved that Cara in love was still Cara. “We could take it off,” she suggested. “Along with other things. If they’re in your way.”

Kahlan could barely form the words to agree, and the few backward steps into their tent were too many. It was dark inside as she hastily knotted the entrance closed, but luckily each had become well acquainted with the other’s laces and buckles. They quickly set about their tasks, sharing urgent kisses as clothing fell away, and it wasn’t long at all before it was tossed aside completely. But the rush slowed to a near-stop when Kahlan felt a gentle touch on the skin of her back, in a very particular place.

“You are scarred,” Cara said softly behind her, running a finger along the length of the healed Dacra wound from which her Confessor power had been torn. “In so many ways. I am sorry, Kahlan. That all of this happened to you.”

“You should kiss me. Or I might say something I shouldn’t.”

“Something you shouldn’t?” Cara murmured, gently pushing Kahlan down on their bedding.

“Just kiss me,” Kahlan breathed, relaxing on her back as the blonde settled over her. She couldn’t put words to these thoughts. They were dangerous, and Cara would scold her for having them and likely feel guilty. As Cara kissed her quickly, earnestly, and deeply, until they were both breathless, she let herself think such things, just once. That she wouldn’t change anything that had happened; that the cost of going back and taking a different path was too high if it meant giving up what she felt for Cara. That she would welcome the scars—because Cara was more than worth it.

As heartbeats and breathing increased, as naked skin became flushed, as bodies were pressed close and muscles flexed, Kahlan willingly sank deep into her want of Cara, surrendering to now-familiar scent and warmth. There were new things being whispered and murmured amid soft moans. Vows of love. Their sex, their lovemaking, seemed to reach an impossible new height, a new intensity she’d never felt before, every time Kahlan said the words or heard them, and she couldn’t say them enough.

****

When she woke abruptly, panting heavily and in a sweat, to someone’s urgent and low-voiced calling of her name, Kahlan sat up straight in the dark, eyes flying wide to search around her. It took a small moment for her to realize that her body’s state was not due to a twisted nightmare; the pleasurable tenderness between her legs spoke of coming down from something else entirely as her body calmed. “Cara?” she asked, as the blonde wordlessly sat up beside her. “What…how long was I asleep?”

“Only a couple moments,” Cara sighed. “You passed out. During our. Are you alright?”

Kahlan gulped. “Oh. I think so. Why did I. It was…that good? I don’t remember what happened.”

“It was very much that good until you wouldn’t wake up,” Cara said, almost grumpily. “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“Kahlan, that’s never happened before. Are you sure you’re alright?” She pressed a wrist to her brow, not unlike a housewife checking a child for fever. Kahlan blinked.

“I think so. We don’t have time to…Raina could be back at any moment.”

Cara nodded. “If you’re sure you’re alright.”

They dressed quickly, splashing a little water on their faces, and emerged back into the world. Nothing had changed; the picture that greeted Kahlan was the exact one she’d left. The new moon was still on the edge of the sky, offering faint and silent vigil over the waiting army. But something felt very different. She couldn’t place it, and as they walked to the command tent in silence, she tried to figure out what it was. It didn’t come to her until they were nearly there, and it stopped her in her tracks. “Cara,” she said, her eyes widening. “I don’t feel it.”

“Don’t feel what?” Cara asked immediately.

“Do you remember when I told you that I could feel my Han just like I could feel Confessor magic? I don’t feel anything. I feel empty again.”

“Are you saying that…”

“My magic is gone,” Kahlan whispered, looking down at her hands as if they’d betrayed her.

Raina chose that exact moment to return from the night sky with the sound of wings and a puff of smoke, and she spoke words Kahlan very much wanted to hear, just not at that moment. “Our messenger is returning with someone.”

****

She chose to meet the Mother Confessor’s envoy alone in the shallow valley just inside the foothills. He was not a soldier, but wore robes with the colors of the Aydindril Home Guard regardless; his gaze was severe from the saddle as he regarded her, and his speech more so. “I am here for one purpose,” he stated. “To hear the vow of the Lord Rahl to lay down his arms and let justice be done unto D’Hara.”

Kahlan’s horse stamped his foot as her own messenger departed, leaving her alone with him. Lit only by the torch in her hand, she wanted this meeting over with for many different reasons. But she needed to form her words carefully. The envoy had already revealed just how uninformed the Midlands truly were. They had, just as Kahlan suspected, no idea what had happened in D’Hara since the baneling scourge had wrecked both lands, and had not cared enough to find out.

She gathered her black cloak about her and nodded back at the hilltop, on the other side of which lay her army. “Come. Let us talk.”

He tightened his jaw as she wheeled her mount, but followed as ordered. “I was told I would be speaking with the Lord Rahl,” he said.

“No. You were told you would be speaking with the leader of D’Hara. But there is something far more important to discuss than names, messenger. Numbers.”

“Numbers,” he repeated flatly, his eyes hard. “I am not interested in whatever distractions you have to offer. Take me to Lord Rahl.”

Kahlan gritted her teeth. This was a difficult man. “I know the intentions of the Midlands army,” she said, picking up their pace slightly. “You meant to march straight to the gates of the People’s Palace and storm them down. To wreak havoc on D’Hara in the name of anticipatory justice. I have already cut short such plans by meeting you here. I wonder…what kind of desperate self assuredness must an army possess not to bother with scouts?”

His lips curled in what Kahlan thought was supposed to be a smile, or smirk, but she didn’t give him a chance to reply. “Then it came to me,” she continued. “It’s obvious that your army has grown beyond anything the Midlands could have raised in the past, and the Mother Confessor is no doubt rather sure of her ability to overwhelm anything D’Hara can muster. I brought you here, messenger, so that you may tell the Mother Confessor just how sorely she is mistaken.”

They were nearing the crest of the hill as the envoy’s eyes narrowed. “What is the meaning of your words?” he demanded.

“I will save you the trouble of counting,” she said evenly. “For every one the Mother Confessor has under her command, I have six. D’Hara’s gold is good in both the New and Old Worlds, whether our purchases are grain and stock or swords and men to wield them. You see, messenger, the Midlands are truthfully very much outnumbered. Not the other way around.”

There was a certain poetry, she supposed, in reversing the odds. She might have been able to claim more, but claiming nearly forty times her actual force was risk enough. Watching his face as they reached the hilltop, she was relieved to see him visibly swallow as he took in the view presented to him. “This is impossible,” he murmured, eyes widening.

Looking out across the plains was like looking at a mirror of the night sky above them if the stars had all caught flame. The sheer number of small fires, thick across the landscape, was staggering; the closer campfires were visible clearly, amid the rows of tents beginning just down the hill, but farther out gradually became nothing but pinpricks of light in the distance. With the new moon, it was dark enough that it wasn’t apparent just how relatively small the actual encampment was compared to the vast display.

“If you are done staring, messenger?” She waited, and when he finally tore his gaze from the sight, Kahlan told him, “I am the Lady Rahl. You will tell the Mother Confessor that certain death awaits her and those who follow her if she pursues this war, that there will be a slaughter in these hills if she does. I do not ask anything but that she abandon her course and return to the Midlands, and I intend no treachery if she does so. My utmost desire is peace—I will have such for my people, for D’Hara, but she may choose how many lives my victory will cost.”

He blinked, and stared at her, as if he had just noticed the blood red dress underneath her cloak.

****

Kahlan dismounted outside the command tent, and the air was thick with tension. Her inner council were waiting outside, all four of them staring silently at her. “Did it work?” Cara asked tersely.

“I think so,” Kahlan said, motioning them inside. “He turned from a pompous ambassador into a rather worried man as soon as he saw our little display.” She was relieved, and almost smiled as she joined them in the lamp-lit interior. “We can rest assured that he will strongly recommend against engaging us in battle.”

“But will the Mother Confessor listen?” Tavert asked, stifling a yawn. He seemed the only one suffering from the late hour; the Mord-Sith seemed unaffected. “Forgive me, Lady Rahl,” he added, rubbing his brow.

Kahlan nodded in return. “I don’t know. If her sole desire is to wipe D’Hara from the face of the New World, no matter the cost, then it’s doubtful.” Her pretense was over, and Kahlan gave up trying to conceal the truth from those who already knew it. “But I know my sister,” she sighed. “Unless she has changed beyond recognition, she will listen to reason. I don’t know if she will turn around, but we can hope for and expect two different things—I am. It will be daybreak before we hear an answer, be it in the form of a messenger or an army in the hills. We all need sleep, but before we go to our rest, I would have a word.” She looked to Tavert, who nodded.

Outside the tent, he waited patiently for Kahlan to figure out exactly what it was she wanted to say. “I am glad,” she began quietly, “that I chose you, General. How did a man as good as yourself come to be a part of anything Darken Rahl built?”

He hesitated, looking to the side, and offered a half-smile. “I was hardly chosen by the Lord Rahl. One could say that, during the chaos shortly following the baneling scourge, I was in the right place at the right time. I took an opportunity, at some cost—”

“Say nothing more,” Kahlan interrupted, offering a small smile of her own. It should have occurred to her that if people undeserving of such opportunity could take it, so could those that were. “I understand. Thank you for serving me as well as you have, General, and I hope to receive your service well past tomorrow.”

He pounded his fist to his chest, and bowed his head. “My Lady Rahl.”

“I need my army to rest during the few candlemarks we have.”

“And so they will,” Tavert said, before turning to depart.

“That includes you,” she called out after him.

Kahlan found the inside of the tent, still occupied by the three Mord-Sith, returning to silence as she stepped inside. “I trust Cara told you?” she asked. Raina inclined her head to Kahlan before heading outside to give them privacy, and Kahlan offered a reassuring smile when she saw concern in her brown eyes.

“She told me that you lost your magic,” Berdine said. There wasn’t concern in her tone—or anything for that matter. “During lovemaking?”

Kahlan blushed, promptly and furiously, as heat rose to her cheeks, but Cara did no such thing. “Absolutely amazing lovemaking,” the blonde muttered, arms crossed. “And we were both in the clutches of a rather exquisite release when she falls asleep.”

Kahlan blushed a little more, until she was sure her cheeks were the same color as her dress. “You don’t sound concerned,” she observed, after clearing her throat. “Either of you.”

“She said you don’t need to worry,” Cara said, as if that was that.

“It will come back,” Berdine offered. “Magic cannot leave a person on its own. It can be weakened through use, but not—”

“But it did leave,” Kahlan objected. “It’s quite gone. I don’t feel it anymore. And I didn’t do anything. Cara, did I do anything?”

The blonde shrugged. “I can’t say I was attentive at the moment.”

“Kahlan, do you trust me?” Berdine asked suddenly.

“Yes.”

“I will explain everything, what I think happened, after this war does or doesn’t happen.”

Kahlan furrowed her brow. “Why not now?”

“You would become distracted. Both of you.”

She looked at Berdine, carefully. It was true; she did trust her, with what little she knew about her, but more importantly, Cara trusted her. “Alright,” she said. “When will it come back?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“It may be hours, but if I’m right it could be far, far longer,” Berdine answered vaguely.

Kahlan sighed. “If I can’t use magic, and we have to fight…”

Cara narrowed her eyes. “You’d better not be planning on plunging yourself into the thick of battle with your daggers. I’ll steal both pairs from you and hide them,” she warned. “So you can’t. Everything else aside, if you die the bond dies with you. For good this time.”

She shook her head. “I know my place, Cara. This is my first war, but I’ve studied my share. Tavert and I will be on the hilltop, and don’t worry. I’ll let my Mord-Sith fulfill their purpose.”

Cara sniffed her approval and nodded.

****

Dawn came like any other day, blazing bright across the eastern sky, and Kahlan woke to gentle prodding as if from death itself. “I don’t think I moved,” she groaned, extricating herself from Cara’s loose embrace. Her limbs hadn’t been this stiff since they’d slept in the crevice during the snowstorm, and she winced as she raised herself from the bedding.

“You didn’t,” Cara informed her. “It was like sleeping with a rock. A warm and soft rock, but…” She shrugged, adding, “So much for not being able to sleep.”

“Losing my Han,” Kahlan began, clearing her throat. “I think it exhausted me. It’s still not back.” She looked at Cara, her blonde hair not overly disheveled. “You didn’t sleep, did you?” she accused.

“Some. Not much. You’re needed in the command tent. It’s not good.”


	12. Chapter 12

The hills were turning dark before their eyes. Kahlan, on horseback between Tavert and Cara, watched as the Midlands army crept ever closer to them, appearing at such a distance as the shadow of unseen clouds painting the land. It was a clear mark of her failure—the war was coming. The ground rumbled under as her own battalions slowly passed them by in tight formation, banners with the red and gold of D’Hara at the head of each, as they headed to take up their positions well inside the hills. They couldn’t afford to be pushed back into the plains by the first wave.

She and Cara were once again facing death together, side by side, but this time they were faced with the death of a nation in addition to their own. Knowing the end might be coming and watching it actually approach were two different things, and Kahlan gripped the reins tightly as her eyes swept across the landscape. This might have been what Nicci felt as her lifeblood drained from her chest. The disbelief. Somehow Kahlan had actually come to think this moment wouldn’t come, and she was disappointed with herself. Succumbing to such denial was not in her nature.

“A storm is coming,” Tavert said suddenly, from his own mount.

“A keen observation,” Cara replied drily. “But I didn’t think you one for poetic understatements.”

He lifted a hand from the reins. “No, not that. Look, just there.”

As her army continued passing around them, Kahlan followed his gaze to the Rang’Cora mountains that rose up tall to their side, splitting the land to the north in two. Dark clouds were indeed gathering over the peaks, and the shadows they cast across the ridges were in sharp contrast to the bright morning sun across the rocky mountainsides.

Cara was struck silent, and Kahlan knew they were both thinking the same thing. The way the clouds were moving, and almost black, reminded her in no small way of the unnatural storm on the beach of the Pillars of Creation. It was fitting, she supposed, that this portion of her life should begin and end with the same storm. “I am sorry,” she said privately to Cara.

“For what?”

“That I let this happen. That we won’t get through this after all, that I failed. That D’Hara will fall. That it was all for nothing.”

The blonde looked at her sharply. “For nothing? You don’t have anything worth fighting for?”

“You’re…of course I do,” she said softly, feeling properly chastised as she looked out to the coming army. “I’m glad that you’re here with me,” she added.

Cara hesitated. It looked like she might not answer at all, but then she firmly said, “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“I can think of a few places I’d rather be,” Tavert offered, revealing sharper ears than they gave him credit for.

Kahlan almost smiled, because she understood them both. “We should move farther in.”

They traveled slowly over the next few valleys and rises, and Kahlan passed her gaze from the somber faces of the men around her to the thin grass under the feet of their mounts, to the growing and burgeoning storm in the north. The three took up position on the hillside facing their enemy as they grew ever closer, and as horns sounded through the hills, her army came to a stop. The captains arrived before them not long after, reporting that everything was in place and the archers were ready, and a score of Mord-Sith, Berdine at their head and Raina among them, took up a position in front of Kahlan. They had decided to stack the battalions four deep across the hills with four quads of Mord-Sith in each. Kahlan looked to her sides; even as stretched out as they were, they would still be easily surrounded and overwhelmed. Thousands of her men were going to die in the first moments of the clash.

Individual soldiers could now be distinguished in the approaching army, and everyone waited for agonizing moments as they drew closer still, slowly spilling over the next rise. A breeze rippled through the valley ahead of them, and the relative silence was suddenly broken by banners snapping in the wind. It was strange, but there didn’t seem to be any organization among their foes other than a clearly marked and advancing front line.

She gazed at the mass of men, and as she tried to search for similar words to those she’d shared with Ben to inspire the men within earshot, a disturbance in her own front lines drew Kahlan’s attention from the Midlands army back to her own. She soon spotted a mounted soldier making his way up the hill toward her. He was in no small hurry, only slowing when he reached hailing distance. “Lady Rahl,” he called out.

Tavert urged his mount forward a pace. “What is it? Speak quickly and clearly.”

“My sight is better than most, but look closely,” he replied, pulling his horse to a stop in front of them. “What approaches is no army. Look past the soldiers, women and young are among them!”

Blood ran cold in Kahlan’s veins, and she raised a hand to shield her eyes as she inspected the truth of such words. Horns echoed out, not her own, and the Midlands came to a halt down the other side of the wide vale. Not one hundred paces separated them over the stripe of valley floor, and while she could clearly see soldiers at the ready in the front, it was near the top of the rise that she saw other telltale shapes, some smaller and some thinner without armor.

“Cara,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “What do you see?”

“He’s right,” she answered grimly. “It would seem the Midlands have been emptied to swell their ranks.”

Varying emotions roiled inside Kahlan, but one of them quickly took her by force. “I won’t allow this!” Kahlan hissed, suddenly furious. “My sister has gone too far. Stay here, all of you!”

There were protests behind her, but Kahlan dug her heels into her mount and set off down the hill at a gallop between two battalions. She was powerless, one normal woman against the Mother Confessor and her vast “army,” but she would demand to hear Dennee’s excuse for such madness nonetheless. She crossed the valley floor, hooves pounding across grass, and when she came to a stop mere paces from their front lines, every single pair of eyes was locked on her in surprise and unease. “The Mother Confessor’s sister, Kahlan Amnell, would speak with her!” she shouted. “Tell her she may not have her war until she does!”

No one moved, and just when Kahlan was considering the likelihood of being killed if she pushed through in search of Dennee herself, there was a commotion near the top of the hill. A white horse appeared with a woman in a white dress in the saddle, and it paused before beginning to push through the disorganized crowd around it. Kahlan was fuming, and she couldn’t decide whether to try and arrest herself or let Dennee see her anger.

She couldn’t see any young children among them, but there were a fair number of boys and girls alike that didn’t look a day over fifteen summers. It explained much. Aside from their impossible numbers, their pace had been constantly slowing because of such liability. And most recently, it explained their apparent disorganization. Kahlan’s mount, sensing her mood, stamped his feet as she let him pace back and forth.

Her sister’s face finally came into view, and Kahlan gripped the reins so tight her hands hurt. Dennee was wearing the emotionless and expressionless mask of a Confessor, and as she broke from the front lines of solemn soldiers, she almost looked as if she thought she was in Aydindril, not leading men, women, and children to slaughter. Kahlan’s lips nearly curled into an involuntary snarl at this tarnishing of everything the white dress was supposed to represent, but she controlled her own expression with effort.

Dennee came to a stop a mere two paces from her, just out of earshot of the soldiers, and they regarded each other carefully. Kahlan spoke first, still carefully. “What is the meaning of this? This is a battlefield, Dennee. It’s no place for farmers, housewives, and those who haven’t reached adulthood.”

She ignored Kahlan’s question, but let a flicker of emotion show in her eyes for the smallest moment. “I cannot think it coincidence that you appear on such a battlefield in the colors of the enemy,” she replied calmly. “Your whore of a Mord-Sith has turned you completely, then?”

Kahlan swallowed back sudden rage, knowing it was not the time to defend Cara’s honor. “I was wrongly exiled from my home by the Mother Confessor,” she responded. “Do you not recall your own words? Even then, it was not easy, and still isn’t, for me to take up arms against the land of my birth, my own people. Do not think for a moment that it was.”

“My sister would never do such a thing, no matter the circumstances.”

“My sister would never sacrifice children for such misguided ends!”

Dennee shook her head. “You don’t understand. I am merely doing what I must!”

Kahlan quickly dismounted and stepped forward, her palms up in supplication. “Help me understand, Dennee. What so requires you to empty the Midlands as you have? To force these people to their death?” She gave a short laugh of disbelief, shaking her head. “Does your ‘army’ even have weapons?”

A gust of wind blew through the vale, tugging at her red dress and Dennee’s white one, and Kahlan glanced to the mountains to see the entire northern sky growing dark as black clouds spread. Her sister dismounted in turn, and came to stand a pace from her with her hands folded in front of her. “Of course they have weapons,” she said coldly. “It’s as I told you before, if you remember my words so clearly. D’Hara is a nation of war; it always has been. It was only a matter of time until—”

Kahlan shook her head. “No,” she interrupted. “That’s not good enough. This is a drastic measure, Dennee, not something born of a mere possibility. Moreover, D’Hara will never again attack the Midlands unprovoked. You received a promise of peace, which you shunned. While Darken Rahl was a man of war in pursuit of power, and he shaped D’Hara in his image, that is being undone.”

Dennee narrowed her eyes. “Was a man,” she repeated. “Darken Rahl is dead? And who are you to make such a vow for an entire nation?”

“There is much you do not know, sister,” Kahlan said softly. “Look into my eyes, search me as a Confessor, and I beg you to find any lie in what I tell you. Darken Rahl died before my own eyes, months ago. I took on the power of the Rahl bloodline through means of magic, and D’Hara has taken me as their leader in turn. I am the Lady Rahl your messenger told you of, and as such I swear to you that D’Hara has no intention of war. This army is here to defend their own nation against your aggression.”

Dennee’s expressionless mask finally fell into shock. “You’re telling the truth,” she whispered.

“This doesn’t need to happen,” Kahlan said gently, hoping to take advantage of the moment. “The reason for your war is no more. No lives have been lost yet today, and none have to be.”

Dennee closed her eyes and shook her head. “No. That’s not…we are not turning around,” she said firmly, meeting Kahlan’s gaze. “D’Hara committed unspeakable atrocities against the Midlands. They will be met with justice, no matter what odds we face, or the cost.”

“Every single atrocity was ordered from the mouth of one man and his chosen leaders,” Kahlan countered. “All of which are either dead, replaced, or soon to be either at my discretion. If I return to the People’s Palace alive,” she added. A thought took her, a disturbance, and shock registered in Kahlan’s own expression. The ruse had worked; Dennee thought she was marching into the impossible odds that Kahlan herself was truly facing. And although she thought the attempt at deception useless, it now served a single purpose: informing Kahlan just how utterly desperate her sister was for this justice. Given their makeshift army, the Midlands had to think they were marching into nothing less than certain death. “Dennee,” she said carefully, “help me understand. You would throw the Midlands to their end against a massive force, outnumbered and outmatched, with no true hope of victory. Tell me why.”

Dennee’s face turned hard. “D’Hara deserves it.”

“You’re not making sense, sister,” Kahlan pressed. “Tell me why. The Midlands and D’Hara were both dragged through the Underworld, and now you would send your people there by your own will. I am aware that wars are sometimes necessary in this world, but this is entirely needless, Dennee! You’re doing the Keeper’s own work for him. Tell me why!”

Dennee hesitated, and a crack of distant thunder rolled through the hills. The storm was growing in size unusually fast as it came south toward them, and the closest black clouds were visibly roiling and churning as a consistent wind picked up through the valley. Sheets of rain were visible in the form of dark mist under the storm, and a second clap of thunder seemed to force words from Dennee. “Our mother taught us there was no cost to true justice,” she snapped. “You made sure I always remembered that.”

“Do not twist her words,” Kahlan hissed. “Her memory doesn’t deserve it. Tell me why!”

“D’Hara is…”

Her patience was gone. Kahlan stepped forward and took Dennee by the shoulders almost roughly, searching her eyes. “This is not truly about D’Hara, is it? What is wrong with you? Tell me, little sister!”

“I killed him!” Dennee burst out, immediately glancing down as she raised a hand to cover her mouth. For long moments Dennee was silent, and Kahlan watched with a furrowed brow as a change came over her, as hardness fell away, as her resolve melted into something else. Suddenly, Kahlan was looking into the eyes of her sister—for what felt like the first time in a very long time.

“My son,” Dennee continued, her voice nearly breaking. “He was only in this world long enough for me to learn to love him. He was saying his first words, Kahlan. He called me mama, just before I…” She swallowed, and her arms fell to her sides as her eyes settled on a place far away, behind Kahlan. “Just before I drove my dagger into his heart. It didn’t go halfway to the hilt,” she said numbly. “I was in panic; I almost didn’t realize my mistake until it was too late. The Mord-Sith found me. They merely had to kill me and bring him back. So I ran, with his lifeless body loose in my arms, to the cliff. I could barely see. It was night, and I could barely see for my tears. I was barely able to…throw him over. Before they caught me. I confessed one of them, but the rest held me down, and the last thing I remember was Cara’s face, twisted in anger, as she shoved her Agiel to my heart.”

Dennee suddenly looked older, in pain, and she blinked as her gaze slid back to Kahlan, pleading with her to understand. “I remember that night so clearly. I still hear his cries at night,” she whispered as her eyes grew wet. “I think it’s driven me mad, sister. Has it driven me mad?”

Kahlan stood frozen as everything fell into place. Dennee had been through such trauma, and unlike herself, she had been alone during the long months since. She didn’t have someone like Cara, and she had no loved ones to support her in Kahlan’s continued absence. Dennee had been alone in her torment, and it was easy to imagine her reason slowly leaving her since. Her obsession, her cold detachment, and loss of the empathy were all explained by a darkness all her own, and it had changed her. Kahlan’s memory of her short experience, her own two weeks of torment that she faced by herself, filled her with sorrow, even knowing it was unlikely their tortures were any amount the same. “I am a terrible sister,” Kahlan murmured to herself. She had listened when Dennee told her she was fine so long ago, and she had assumed she was telling the truth. She should have known better. “Dennee, listen to me. I took my vengeance on the one I held responsible for Richard's death, but it didn't help me. This is not what you need, no matter what you think.”

Kahlan felt Dennee’s shoulders sag, and her eyelids fluttered before she crumbled, the two of them half-falling together to sit on the grass. “I’ve never spoken of it,” Dennee said dazedly. “Not to anyone.” As Kahlan took her hands, Dennee looked up suddenly, as if just noticing that they were sitting in between two patiently waiting armies. “What have I done, sister?” she whispered. “I don’t think I…”

“You started a war,” Kahlan told her gently. “But you can stop it as well.”

“I don’t care about the war. I don’t want a war. I just…”

The wave of powerful relief Kahlan felt was tempered with an equally powerful guilt, and she squeezed her sister’s hands. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you,” she said quietly. “You needed me, and I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry. I love you, sister, and I swear I’ll be there for you now.”

Words suddenly spilled freely from Dennee. “Kahlan, I confessed every one of the Central Council. And I assured everyone that D’Hara was responsible for your death. For the Seeker’s death, and for the death of Wizard Zorander as well. I told them that D’Hara intended to march on us. I instilled desperation in them through lies, sister. They think they have no choice but war. Look at their faces…they’re all so desperate.”

Kahlan bowed her head; it hurt to hear her sister admit to such things. She herself had always been the one who could do the hard and unpleasant things Dennee couldn’t. Kahlan used to take the confessions of certain criminals in her sister’s stead so she didn’t have to hear the things they admitted to. They had been apart less than three years since Kahlan left her behind during her search for the Seeker, but it seemed a lifetime.

“How did you…” Dennee sighed, burying her face in her hands. “I know it’s not the same, but after Richard, how are you alright? I don’t know myself anymore, and you’re still yourself.”

“I had someone to help me,” Kahlan said carefully. “We can talk about that later, and only if you truly want to, but—”

“Was it her?” Dennee asked softly, arresting her gaze.

“Yes,” Kahlan admitted. After a too-short pause and completely against her better judgment, she continued, “She’s changed, Dennee. So much. She’s not the same woman that I threatened with death and almost killed to avenge you. Well, she is, and that’s what’s so hard to believe…I owe so much to her. She took care of me. I was broken, Dennee, and I still am, and she’s the only thing holding me together. She’s nursing me back to health, in her own way, and I don’t know what I would do without…”

She realized she was rambling and stopped herself before she admitted something immediately dangerous, but Dennee was just listening intently. “It would seem the world has changed us all,” she said softly.

Kahlan could only nod agreement. “We should tell our…to stand down,” she offered.

Dennee nodded in turn and stood, Kahlan standing with her, and a few words later it was all over. The wind changed direction, as if on cue, during her short ride back to Cara and her army, urging the massive rainstorm east—toward D’Hara and the desert plains of Azrith.

****

The months passed quickly. Dennee dissolved the Midlands Alliance of her own volition, and her last act before stepping down as Mother Confessor was placing the Midlands and all its member kingdoms under the sovereignty of the Lady Rahl, citing herself unfit to rule. Kahlan had no choice but to accept, and she made time in her resulting impossible schedule to visit her sister every few days. While Dennee claimed she would never bless her relationship with Cara, she said she “understood,” and that was enough for all of them. Dennee and her adopted son, whom she had once relinquished care of to another, took up residence in the small nameless village at the foot of the Rang’Shada mountains on the far side of the Midlands—in the very house Kahlan and Cara had stayed in before heading into the peaks after Nicci. Its closeness to a Mord-Sith temple, making it easier for Kahlan to visit, played no small part in her decision. Her sister also claimed that she found it peaceful, and the people friendly. It might appear a self-exile, but Kahlan knew she was glad for the opportunity to be apart from everything so she could heal.

Given the impossible task of convincing the Midlands to work with D’Hara, Kahlan’s continued sanity proved entirely reliant on Cara. Once the blonde forgave Kahlan for “charging alone and defenseless into a massive army like a madwoman,” Kahlan came to rely on her input for nearly every matter of state that arose—of which there were plenty. Cara slowly and grudgingly revealed a well-hidden grasp of politics and maneuverings that rivaled Kahlan’s own, which the blonde claimed was due to years spent in various “cutthroat” Mord-Sith temples. Kahlan often asked her what she could do in return for being so good to her, and Cara always replied with a raised brow and a look of general reproach as she explained that simply being with her was “more than enough,” following nonetheless with an offer to make sure Kahlan “slept well” that night. And after trimming her blonde hair a little, she did continue to wear full Mord-Sith leather—which Kahlan somehow found increasingly attractive as time went on.

Kahlan’s magic gradually returned, just as Berdine promised, and she eventually wrestled it under control with the Mord-Sith’s help. She didn’t even have to open doors anymore, but quickly realized she preferred using her hands instead of waving them in the air. So her power stayed buried, just like her Confessor magic always had been, under the surface until she truly needed it—which wasn’t often at all. As for the bond, it was Raina that cheerily informed her that “all of D’Hara” could tell that she was “so much in love” through its magic. After she was done blushing, Kahlan remembered Berdine’s words. That such things would only become apparent through the bond if they became a part of her. It was a small price to pay. In turn, she grew conscious of an initially hesitant contentment in the minds and hearts of her people during the slow rebirth of D’Hara from the Keeper’s ravaging, and as they grew to love their Lady Rahl, so she grew to love them. Such was an effect of Alric’s bond; a cycle of trust between a people and their leader.

Eventually, Kahlan stopped trying to be whole and ceased worrying about her darkness. Life didn’t wait for such things, and in time Cara mentioned she’d given up trying to make the pieces of her own life fit perfectly together. Instead they relied on each other and let things take their own course, and she was sure they were the better for it. Ultimately, Kahlan learned that a love born of pain, built from hurt, and tinged by death was no less capable of growing into something beautiful that resembled none of those things. And while Cara did regain much of her former emotional reserve as she spent time among other Mord-Sith, Kahlan didn’t mind. She knew what was under the surface, and there were often enough times when the blonde’s guard was let down—usually upon collapsing on red silk sheets, naked, entwined, sweaty, and sated, and if Cara smiled from her pillow instead of smirked, Kahlan would know she was then allowed to whisper such sweet nothings as would normally make the Mord-Sith recoil. Due to Cara’s condition, their lovemaking was growing decidedly less physical as of late, but it was still their preferred method of making up after the disagreements inherent to two such strong-willed people as themselves.

She thought of all these things and more as she walked slowly through the waist-tall grass that had been bare sand mere months before. It seemed the massive storm, once it arrived over the vast expanse of desert, had never left. It grew and shrank, sometimes stretching across seemingly countless leagues, and moved from one corner of D’Hara to the other, but it pulled water from the air wherever it was. Kahlan looked at it far to the northeast, throwing down wide curtains and sheets of rain in the distance. At this rate, speeded as its recovery was by the same magic that destroyed it, it wouldn’t be long before the dried lake and river beds were full and flowing, and D’Harans could begin living the life of their ancestors, free from the tethers of the People’s Palace, that had been denied them for centuries.

A shout behind her made Kahlan turn and see the foreman beckoning to her. She made her way to him shortly and listened to his question, then shook her head and walked in a straight line, over the cropped grass and building supplies and through the other workers, stopping a great many paces out. “Here,” she called out, pointing to the ground under her.

“That’s a wide gate,” he shouted.

“That’s the idea!”

The Citadel was Cara’s offhanded notion, but Kahlan had taken to it, becoming quite determined to see it started as soon as possible. Although several buildings were planned, it was to be less of a city—the People’s Palace had that quite covered—and more of a symbol, a meeting place, with a single great tower rising tall at its center to represent the willful union of the Midlands and D’Hara under one rule. The two nations had been at war for as long as either had record of, and it was Kahlan Amnell that brought them together—seemingly through sheer force of will, but truthfully through many compromises and late hours spent with parchment and quill. She knew Richard and Zedd would both have been proud of her. Set in the former desert and near the border to the Midlands, the tower would be visible for many leagues in any direction as a monument to peace not born of war.

On hearing footsteps swishing through grass behind her, Kahlan turned, pursing her lips in disapproval when she saw who it was. The blonde Mord-Sith, somewhat out of breath, stopped before her, rolling her eyes even as Kahlan opened her mouth to speak. Kahlan, in turn, prefaced her scolding with a dutiful and long-suffering sigh. “Cara, what are you doing? You should be resting.”

“I’ll have you know I sacrificed no small amount of dignity coming to you in…this,” she pointed out, indicating her loose and simple dress. “If I should be resting, you should be grateful.”

“I’d rather you not come out at all,” Kahlan chided. She stepped to Cara and placed a gentle hand on the blonde’s swelled belly, which had finally forced her to forego trying to fit in drastically loosened leathers.

Their coming daughter, conceived the night before the war that almost was, had been the reason for the utter and long-lasting weakening of Kahlan’s Han. For not only was her magic capable of great destruction—of ripping soil and rock from mountainsides, of killing hundreds of men with raised hands and a thought—it was also capable of creation. And while she was never able to bring down the sky and stars to vanquish her foes, Kahlan much preferred this as a testament to her power. According to Berdine this single most powerful feat, creating life, was long-forgotten and supposedly impossible, but given the impossible love they felt, it only made sense to them both and seemed more or less natural. In rare conversation about the matter, Cara usually claimed it was simply a rather dramatic way for Kahlan to prove she loved her “once and for all,” since such love was apparently a requirement for such an occurrence.

They had spoken once of the unpleasant truth, that this wasn’t the first time Cara had carried a child with Rahl blood, but after a needless vow from Kahlan that no one would take her child from her this time, Cara had sighed and explained that she knew these things already and she had a special request for the kitchen staff if Kahlan didn’t mind passing it on. Recently she had taken to wandering the People’s Palace, stating boredom, but Kahlan suspected she was somewhat proud—even though she glared at anyone who dared look at her. Kahlan had spent many nights laying with an ear pressed to Cara’s belly, imagining she could hear a tiny heart beating. Only then would Cara let herself smile in a such a way that Kahlan once—and only once—risked describing as “glowing”.

Truthfully, Kahlan had never seen her happier, but she kept that to herself. On the other hand, she welcomed every opportunity to make sure Cara knew just how she felt, which earned her constant warnings against the spoiling of their child. Kahlan had long thought that she would likely be raising a Confessor at some point in her life, but that was while she was one herself. She’d given up her naïve hope of children along with equally naïve hope of a normal life, and never imagined being given such a gift by the world that had taken so much from her. If she felt such contentment now, Kahlan couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to hold her in her arms—though she often tried.

“We’ll need a name for her,” Kahlan reminded her. “Soon. Have you…”

“And her name will come. Soon.”

“Before or after she’s born?”

“You know Westland will feel left out,” Cara said evasively, nodding at the wide foundation of the tower beginning mere paces away.

Kahlan shrugged in turn, allowing the obvious dodge. “You know I spoke with them. They just want to be left alone, and I’m happy to oblige them.”

“And everything is too big,” the blonde stated dismissively. “We won’t live to see it all built.”

“We might not. But she will,” Kahlan said softly.

“I suppose.” Cara looked behind her, and her eyes narrowed. “The storm's coming this way again. I can think of a few names for that thing—it’s apparently going to be around for a while interrupting everything as it sees fit. Oh, and you’re needed back home. One of your new chancellors is throwing a fit about something and had the forum chambers in an uproar when I left.”

Kahlan quickly looked to see that the storm had indeed come closer. “I’ll tell the foreman to cancel today’s work. Wait for me?”

She nodded, and Kahlan stole one last glance at the storm in the distance, and then Cara, before turning away. Not all storms, literal or otherwise, brought bad things, no matter how much destruction was wrought in their making.


End file.
